


You Keep Coming Up

by MagicMarker



Category: The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: (So many - Tilda just loves em), (very under), ALL IN THE PAST, AND SOME SEX, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baking, Car Accidents, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Dates, Gossip Magazines, Government, Heart-to-Heart, However please note:, In the past! again!, Inspired by Pride and Prejudice, Mentions of childhood poverty, Mentions of parents dying, Modern Royalty, Oral Sex, Paparazzi, Policy, Political Alliances, Politics, Road Trips, Sex Games, Sibling Banter, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Slow Burn, Snowed In, Texting, and North and South, bowling, but you know still sad though, for instance, international politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-02 14:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10946739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMarker/pseuds/MagicMarker
Summary: When her father is crowned King of the new nation of Dale, Sigrid finds herself swept up in a perfect “Rags to Riches” story. Yet she’s never been one to sit idle; as soon as she’s allowed, she puts herself to work attending state dinners with Bard, making appearances at charity galas, and most importantly, lobbying for the cause she holds closest to her heart. But it’s not all smooth sailing: she’s new to the whole “royalty” thing, paparazzi are everywhere, and a certain dwarf prince seems to know just how to press her buttons.





	1. Dinner, Dancing, and Et Cetera

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [inheritanceofgeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek) also known on tumblr as [mrsmarymorstan](http://mrsmarymorstan.tumblr.com/), who was my loyal beta and did all of the translations for me without even once complaining. She is also the creator of the OFC Dagní, and kindly let me borrow her for this fic. So basically this fic wouldn't exist without her!

Sigrid Bowman was living every normal little girl’s dream: she was a princess, living in her very own room in a castle on top of a hill, never wanting for anything. She had servants to clean the house and cook her dinner, her closet was full of all the most fashionable clothes, and she and her siblings owned any video game on any console they wanted. 

Of course, it hadn’t always been that way.

When Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda were born, their family lived in poverty. Their father had been a bargeman and a smuggler, hauling cargo between Mirkwood and Lake Town for anyone that could pay him (and plenty of people that couldn’t). Their mother had died birthing Tilda, so from early on it was just the four of them, scrimping and saving, recycling and reusing anything they could to keep food on the table. Then the fire came, sweeping through the old wooden buildings of Lake Town and destroying everything.

It turned out that orcs from Gundabad had swept down from the north, planning to attack Erebor in pursuit of the dwarves’ fabled riches. Lake Town just got in their way, and they carpeted the little community with bombs to display their firepower. Sigrid and her family fled with the rest of the survivors to the neighboring ruins of Dale, only to end up caught between Erebor’s army and that of the orc invaders.

Sigrid would learn later that Thranduil, king of the Mirkwood elves, had been alerted to the orcs’ movements but chose to do nothing. Only when her father sent a letter urging him to help the now-refugees from Lake Town did Thranduil appear with food, blankets, and an army large enough to help the dwarves force the orcs into retreat. She would never forget the look on her father’s face as squadron after squadron of elves marched in, delivering life-saving goods. 

Neither could she forget the way he had immediately ordered the three of them to stay hidden as he rallied the human stragglers into a militia to defend their newly-reclaimed rubble. Sigrid was just 17 years old then, but old enough to take her father’s orders with a grain of salt. Instead of cowering in a corner she got to work. When Bard returned almost two days later, he found her coordinating food service and medical relief for what would turn out to be the entire city.

Then they made him King.

Everything changed for her in an instant. The palace was rebuilt and refurnished, and her family moved in about a year after the end of the war. It was a new home for them, but also a giant office for her father’s new staff. Advisors and cabinet members came by often but the children were mostly able to avoid them, keeping to their own rooms in the east wing and letting all the business occur in the west. Tilda loved what she saw as a newfound freedom and Bain retreated to the anonymity of the internet for comfort, but it only took about a month before Sigrid grew increasingly anxious. 

She wanted to help again, she wanted to be useful, but she encountered roadblocks everywhere. People saw her as too young, too inexperienced, too uneducated, sometimes even too female. She tried to throw herself instead into charity work, but Bard was wary of the effects an increased public spotlight would have on her, and kept her home. She was miserable. However as Sigrid approached her nineteenth birthday, Bard insisted it was time for her to attend university. Before the war there had been no way she ever could have dreamed of being able to go - the cost of tuition was impossible, let alone leaving Bain and Tilda alone to fend for themselves. 

With a full staff to support them, though, it became a little easier for Sigrid to go to the Iron Hills four days a week and return for an extended weekend with her family. So she agreed; it was a win-win after all. She could grow up, gain experience and an education which would put to rest any complaint that was levied against her. Once she had a diploma in hand, no one would be able to stop her from making a difference again, she was sure. Four years later she graduated with a degree in Public Policy.

Yet despite the passage of time, an internship, 136 credit-hours and a Bachelor’s degree, she couldn’t find a job. She couldn’t work in the private sector, as her royal blood was a conflict of interest liability. She couldn’t find work in the public sector either, as most agencies preferred to hire people who actually needed a job, and whose social status wouldn’t instantly put people ill-at-ease. 

She turned to the council and cabinet, who refused to offer her more than a symbolic seat on a committee whose task seemed doomed to die from the start: Health Care Reform. There were complaints of nepotism, but scandal soon blew over and bit by bit they handed her responsibility until she was the defacto chairperson. She threw herself into organizing the whole project, writing surveys and collecting the responses, running the numbers and drafting the statistical analysis. The rest of the Healthcare Committee was perfectly pleased to let her do most of the work, as they had their own day-to-day tasks, and Sigrid was happy to do it. Yet progress was slow, and frustrating, and the committee only met twice a month. Four years after graduating, Sigrid was still bored out of her skull.

“Percy cancelled the meeting this week. Now there’s nothing for me to do.” Sigrid pushed her pot roast around her plate, stabbing and releasing pieces just for something to occupy her. Tilda and Bain had eaten hours earlier, but Sigrid had waited for Bard to return home so he wouldn’t dine alone. She hadn’t meant to turn the evening into a gripe-fest, but well, he _had_ asked how her day had gone.

“Well, have you finalized the survey results?” Bard asked, flipping through a stack of papers.

“Yes.”

“Have you generated all the graphs for the report?”

“Yes.”

“Have you– ”

 _“Yes,_ Da, all right, I’ve done everything there is to do on this project because we only meet every two weeks and everyone else has things to do that get in the way except for me! I’ve done everything right, listened to you and to Percy and all the advisers, played by all the rules, and I’m still under house arrest for all I’m allowed out of this damned palace.” She slammed her fork down on her plate and pushed away from the table. 

“Sigrid– ”

“At least before the fire I had a purpose. Now I don’t even wash my own dishes after I dirty them!” Sigrid rose from the table, rolling her eyes at the staff who swarmed to clear her place at the table. “I’m twenty-six years old and I have even less of a life than I had when I was sixteen!”

Bard looked down at the papers in front of him and pushed his plate to the side as well. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I know this has been hard on you. Your whole life has been hard on you.” He sounded truly remorseful, and Sigrid was _this close_ to apologizing for her outburst when he looked up at her with mischief in his eyes. “How would you like to go to a party?”

“A what?”

“I’m to attend an official state dinner in Mirkwood next month. You could accompany me.”

“Are you serious?”

“Sure I’m serious.” Bard reached into his back pocket, extracted his wallet, and handed over a credit card. “Find yourself a formal gown - something appropriate for government affairs - and make sure you have something fancy-looking but comfortable to travel in. We’ll be taking the jet.”

Sigrid plucked the plastic from Bard’s hand and grinned. “I’ll get right on it.” She left the dining room and headed down the hall. “Tilda?” she called, peering into various rooms as she went. “Tilda, I need your help.”

“What?” Tilda yelled from across the hall. “I’m kicking Bain’s butt at Mario Kart so this better be important.”

Sigrid stuck her head into the rec room where she found her two siblings sitting cross-legged on the floor, bobbing and weaving along with their video game counterparts. “I need your help picking out a dress. I’m going with Da to that state dinner in Mirkwood but I have no idea what to wear or how to do my hair or anything.”

“Really?” Tilda gasped. “I’m so jealous that you get to go!”

“Since when did you care about any of that?” Bain asked, cursing when Tilda hit him with a red shell. 

“Since screw you, that’s when. I want to go out, and this is the only way Da will let me. I _need_ to see someone else in this world besides you two jerks, Da, and the blasted healthcare committee. You two at least get to go to school and see people. Now that I’ve graduated I don’t even get that!” She frowned at Bain’s raised eyebrows. Dryly, she added, “And you know. I got tired of being unable to date anyone like a normal modern woman, and decided to try dating like a normal medieval woman instead.” 

Bain chuckled. “So, Da’s finally going to trade you for a cow and a bolt of cloth?”

“Excuse you,” Sigrid scoffed. “I am worth at least _two cows.”_

 _FINISH!_ flashed on the screen. Tilda shrieked with glee and Bain groaned. “All right, Princess Two-Cows. Tell us your master plan.”

“There is no master plan,” she said with a shrug. “All I ever do all day is sit around with you, or go to committee meetings twice a month. I’m bored. I want to meet some new people.”

 _“Smooch_ some new people,” Tilda interjected.

 _“Anyway,”_ Sigrid continued, “Da invited me to go with him to Mirkwood and I think it’s a great idea. I can make some friends like us, get to know other people in our… situation. If it leads to smooching, so much the better.”

“Uh huh,” said Bain, unconvinced.

“Well I think it’s a splendid idea,” Tilda cooed. “Everyone else only dreams about marrying a prince, and now you actually can!” 

Sigrid blanched. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m just trying to have some fun.”

“Whatever.” Tilda rolled her eyes and took Sigrid by the wrist, pulling her out of the room. “Let’s get to work!”

A few hours later they’d done practice runs of five hair-dos, tried three faces of makeup, looked through her jewelry box about eight times, and scanned through pages and pages of dresses online. “That’s it,” Sigrid breathed. Finally, she had found it. “That’s the one.” It was a dark blue, off-the-shoulder gown with a sweetheart neckline and, best of all, pockets. 

“Yeah, it is,” Tilda agreed. “Will Da let you have it?”

Sigrid held up the thin piece of plastic between two fingers. “He told me I could have whatever I wanted, so long as there wasn’t a slit up to my hip or down to my navel.”

_“Awesome.”_

As Sigrid called to make the appointment with the designer’s boutique, she couldn’t help the rush of excitement she felt. A fancy new dress, a trip to a new place, and a party full of other beautiful people to meet who were like her – it would be wonderful. She could just imagine it: cocktails and hors d'oeuvres and mingling, dinner, and dancing the night away with a charming prince who never stepped on her feet. Why ever had she always avoided these before? 

~*~

Oh, that was why. Her da was running around like a giant ball of stress and the last time she’d attended anything official like this, she hadn’t had access to liquor. Plus Da had forbidden his children from attending most events while in school, afraid of “distractions from their studies.” Well if anyone was distracting, it was him.

They’d flown into Mirkwood mid-morning, and she’d had to change clothes and make herself up on the flight so she would look presentable when they were officially received. There were photographers on the tarmac when they disembarked and got into the armored limos, but Bard assured her they were the “good ones” from proper newspapers, not the overly-aggressive jerks from the gossip rags. So she waved and smiled and got promptly into the car.

Then when they got to the palace, there were more photographers and more waves and smiles, and she met King Thranduil and his son, Legolas, for the first time. The elves towered over her, but at least Legolas strove to make it less imposing. Thranduil said a few words, Bard said a few words, and they were off to their rooms in the palace where she would wash her face and hair and start all over again. She could see why her da hated these things; he’d always shied away from the camera when they were younger. Now he had no excuse. 

Sigrid didn’t mind, though. She understood why all of this had to be done. After all, she’d chosen her major on purpose. A dual degree in Marketing and Public Policy had taught her a lot, more than any number of advisors could, about how to tell “The Public” exactly what you wanted them to know and no more. She understood her job, and she was going to do it well. So Sigrid stood behind her father as he spoke, smiled and clapped appropriately, and gently took his arm as they were led inside to prepare for the formal dinner. 

When her head of security knocked on her door, she was struggling with her jewelry. The clasps were so tiny and her nails were so short that she just couldn’t make it work. “I’m so sorry, Dagní, I’m almost ready. I just– Ugh!” 

The dwarf woman entered, earpiece intact and her frizzy black hair pulled into a poofy bun. She watched Sigrid struggle for a moment, before tutting, crossing across the room and taking the bracelet out of her hand. “Come on, Princess. Let me.” Once finished with the bracelets and the necklace, she turned Sigrid towards the mirror. “There. Ready to go.” 

The diamonds around her neck and wrists glittered in the vanity lights, her hair in a sleek twist and secured with a sparkling silver comb. Her makeup was heavier than she ever cared to wear it, but she knew it would look great on camera and under all the lights. 

“You look awesome.”

“Thanks, Dagní,” Sigrid blushed. “I’m not used to– ”

“And late. Put your shoes on and get movin’, Cinderella.” Dagní clapped her hands and turned off the light above the vanity. “We have two minutes to get you in place for the start of this thing.”

Sigrid let her rush them down to the annex off the main hall, where she found her da looking slightly lost but very dapper in a single-breasted black tuxedo and bow tie. Thranduil’s chief of staff Eredhon gave her a side-eye but Sigrid paid him no mind, opting instead to tug her da’s bow tie straight. 

He gaped as she did so, shaking his head with a slow grin spreading across his face. “Sigrid, you look… Wow.”

Eredhon barked an order into the microphone at his wrist, then grinned brightly at the two of them. “King Thranduil and Prince Legolas will be here in twenty seconds, at which time I will open the doors and the four of you will walk out to the dais where you’ll give the prepared remarks for the press. Then you will proceed to the dining room where you’ll meet the rest of the guests for cocktails and hors d'oeuvres, entertainment, dinner, dancing, and et cetera. Clear? Good.”

Sharp footfalls rang through the hall, and soon two slender elves with sleek white-blonde hair arrived. If she’d thought Thranduil imposing this morning, he was positively terrifying in the expertly-fitted maroon tuxedo. Legolas, at least, gave her a look that might have been a smile. She was still sussing it out when Eredhon opened the doors. 

Everything that followed was a blur of flashing lights and speeches, her da’s stiff posture and Thranduil’s silky deep voice. Faster than she thought possible she was being gently ushered around the room, meeting other royalty and celebrities she’d only ever seen before in photographs. Occasionally the press would pair her up with them using grainy cell phone snaps or poorly-photoshopped paparazzi pics, but this would be the first time she would actually meet any of them. Mirkwood’s finest had all been invited, and if Thranduil’s eyebrows were any indication, no one had been able to decline. Dinner happened somewhere in there, and the food was great for sure. She was glad she had done her research so she could at least able to follow the conversation fairly well. 

After dinner they were led into a dance hall, where she immediately put herself in line for the bar. One glass of wine at dinner had _not_ been enough, even if it were the good Elvish stuff. Barely had she gotten her second glass in hand and Eredhel took it from her, guiding her by the elbow to the front of the room. 

“It’s traditional for the guests of honor to join King Thranduil in the first dance,” he explained once they had reached Bard. 

Thranduil rose from his seat and took the hand of another elf lady whom Sigrid’s briefing had revealed to be the Lady Galadriel. Legolas stood with a red-haired elf, and Da held Sigrid’s hand lightly. “Remember how to do this?” he asked with a tight smile.

“Da, please.” Sigrid picked up her skirt in one hand and placed her other on his shoulder. The music begun, a slow waltz, and the three pairs swept around the floor in time. After a few bars, more and more people joined in until the room was full of swirling fabrics. It was absolutely wonderful, dancing with her Da again. 

They hadn’t really done any dancing since her Ma died, she realized, even at his coronation. It had always been Ma twirling around the kitchen with any partner she could find: Da, Sigrid, infant Bain, or even the broom. After she was gone, well, there was just a lot less dancing to be done. She missed whirling around in her da’s arms and so, it seemed, did he. The crinkles by his eyes deepened, and so did his smile, revealing those prominent canine teeth she’d always teased him about. This was the most at-ease she’d seen her da since before they got on the plane.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he murmured once they’d reached a corner of the dance floor. “It’s nice having a partner at one of these things for once.”

“I’m having fun,” she said, and found it was true. It _was_ fun getting dressed up, dancing again, eating the finest cuisine in the world. “Maybe I’ll make a habit of it.”

The music wound down and as the crowd applauded, someone pulled her Da aside and she decided to try again for that glass of wine. As soon as she had it, she made her way out to a balcony in search of some quiet. However, only a minute went by and Legolas appeared at her side. 

“I hope you are finding Mirkwood to your liking, Princess Sigrid.” 

She startled, nearly spilling her wine. “Legol– Prince Legolas, hello.” 

“Come to get some air?” A few other people were walking around, but it still felt more private and safe than the busy ball room. “We’re honored that you chose this event to make your public debut, Princess,” he said dryly, leaning against a bannister. 

“Public debut? Oh, well.” Sigrid took a sip from her glass to buy herself some time. “I _guess_ that’s what it is. It wasn’t meant to be that way, it’s just that with university and my siblings and all of this being so new to us…”

Legolas smiled. “It is wise to try to control your public image as much as possible, especially being so young. If you don’t, well. Others have faced dire consequences.” 

“Gee, thanks,” she groaned, taking another drink. “That really takes the pressure off.”

“And as far as humans go, you’ll be finding a spouse, soon, won’t you?”

Sigrid’s snort sent wine painfully up to her sinuses. “Oh, gods,” she coughed. “What?”

“ _Princess Sigrid Stunning in Zac Posen,”_ Legolas recited in a sing-song voice, his eyes gleaming playfully at her expression. “I’m sorry, but I don’t write the headlines. It’s already the first result when you search your name, and _Arda Today’s_ website is seeing a huge jump in traffic tonight. You’re the most eligible bachelorette in the world, if they’re to be believed.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” she groaned, hanging her head. “I thought this would be a safe bet. There weren’t supposed to be any gossip mags here!”

Legolas gave her a wry smile and reached out somewhat jerkily, as if the movement didn’t come naturally to him. He touched her arm gently and immediately withdrew. “This was about the best bet you could have made. But cameras are permitted at the start of it, and that means someone’s going to have an opinion or two. At least this time it was a positive one.” He paused, considering, then added. “A word of advice, if I may?”

Sigrid nodded, clutching the wine glass like a lifeline. 

“It will be difficult no matter what you do. So, do what you want to do anyway, so long as you’re smart about it. Maybe someone else in these circles will catch your eye, and you already know how careful you’re going to have to be with them if you want to survive the tabloids. But it’s not impossible, you just have to promise yourself never to read the headlines.”

She nodded again, feeling somewhat like a bobble doll until she realized, “Hey. You just quoted me a headline.”

“Very true. Allow me to amend my previous statement. Never read the headlines _unless_ someone else has already gone through them to pick out the flattering ones for you.”

Sigrid laughed then, half out of surprise and half out of genuine humor. She hadn’t been expecting Legolas to be funny at all; his father always looked so stern. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” 

“Just protect your heart, Princess. There’s bound to be plenty of people seeking it now. If you’ll excuse me.” He ducked his head and slipped back into the ballroom.

 _Princess Sigrid Stuns in Zac Posen._ She chuckled to herself as she finished off the dark red liquid in the bottom of her glass. It was sweet and peppery and very potent, and with every step back towards the main hall she let herself feel just a little more proud. _Stuns_. She’d never been called stunning before. The most eligible bachelorette in Arda? Well. Maybe so.

Time to see who thought she was worth two cows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks for reading!


	2. Tiny Foods

Sigrid woke up with a ringing headache and the worst cotton-mouth ever. Smacking her lips, she pushed her hair out of her face and looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table. _11:30 am._ Good thing it was Sunday.

She pulled her robe on over her pajamas and slid her feet into the fuzziest slippers she could find. Every last bit of insulation helped against the onslaught of the outside world. On her way down the long hall to the kitchen, she did her best to piece together the end of the state dinner in Mirkwood. Everything had been lovely, as far as she recalled. She’d had a perfectly nice conversation with Prince Legolas out on the balcony, then gone back in and danced with anyone and everyone who would ask her. 

Beautiful ladies in gorgeous dresses, well-built men in bespoke suits, and of course hobbits and dwarves and the spare elf danced with her in turn. What more could a girl on the prowl want? The wine had been delightful too, though she was paying for it now. Surely she hadn’t been _that_ drunk, right? Da would have yelled her ear off the whole way home if she had. But no, all she remembered was stumbling a bit on the steps up to the plane, and falling asleep once they got up in the air. 

When she pushed into the far-too-white kitchen, she found someone had beat her there. “G’morning, Da,” she mumbled, and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning,” he answered from the table. He seemed slower than usual as well, but had obviously had more time with his coffee and dry toast. “How are you feeling?”

“Horrible!” she groaned, slumping into the chair opposite him. “I didn’t even think I was that drunk! Please tell me I didn’t make an ass of myself.”

“No, no, you were charming,” he drawled with a sort of accent, clearly mocking someone, though she couldn’t tell whom. “Just delightful, an absolute joy.”

“Um. Good?” She frowned into her cup of coffee, the warmth radiating out from the mug into her hands. “Ugh. I’ve never felt so hungover from so little wine.”

“That’s the Dorwinion stuff for you,” Bard shrugged. “Works ever so slightly differently for humans than for elves. Everything’s a happy fun time until the next morning.”

“Blech. I’m never touching that stuff again.”

“Famous last words.”

The two of them sat for a while in silence, recovering through the power of caffeine. Whyever had they allowed the decorators to make the kitchen _white?_ It was an assault on Sigrid’s over-sensitive eyes; stainless steel appliances reflected the sunlight onto bright white cabinetry, cheerful white curtains framed big picture windows looking out onto a gleaming swimming pool of all things. Not only was it too shiny to handle, but she knew how much of a pain in the ass it was to keep it all clean. They had people for that now, but it still felt ever so slightly wrong. Maybe she should just take care of it herself next time. She _should_ just take care of it. Why didn’t she? There was no good reason to add to her staff’s workload.

“Did you have fun last night though?” Bard asked, all of a sudden. “I mean, you looked like you were, but of course, everyone has to.”

She smiled. “Yeah, actually, I did. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but I’m sure after a few more it will feel like old-hat.” 

“Good, good.” Bard paused, then sucked in a breath. “Because, see, I hate them. Er, I hated being alone at them, anyway. And I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, of course, that was the whole reason I said no to most public appearances for you and your siblings while you were in school, but of course, now you’re out of school, and you’re an adult and I want to respect that, of course, but ah, I mean, you said you’d been getting bored lately, and um if you wanted to, you could–”

“Da, stop.” Sigrid rolled her eyes and took another sip of coffee. “I’d love to. I’m going to need to get out there eventually, sit for interviews, that kind of thing. I think it would be really good if I weren’t such a shut-in, actually. I could even do some networking, you know, for my work on the Healthcare Committee.”

Bard blinked at her, then allowed himself a smile. “Great! That’s, that’s great. Glad to hear it. I’ll just, ah, make sure you’re copied on the emails. Choose a couple good ones at first, to get your legs under you, and–”

“Great,” she echoed, already planning ahead. “I’ll take a look and let you know.” 

“Great,” Bard said again, looking significantly happier than he had when she’d first entered the kitchen. “Just a couple!”

“Right, right,” she shrugged. “But first: an aspirin.”

Sigrid spent the rest of the day recovering on the couch, but the next day she was quite pleased to make some real progress with the Healthcare Committee. Her afternoon was full of sorting through emails and invitations her da had sent for her perusal, and by dinner time she had booked herself out three months. Mostly the events were smaller, local functions like the kick-off for Dale Library’s reading initiative, or the groundbreaking on the memorial for those lost in the Lake Town Fire. She also decided to attend several fund-raising galas, even though her da wouldn’t be coming to most of them. Hey, she finally had something to do with her time. Why not fill it?

The time whipped by faster than she could imagine, filled with stylists, aestheticians, doctors, patients, fashion designers, policy makers, and of course, her siblings. Tilda was unspeakably jealous. 

“Why are you getting all these new clothes?” she whined, mouth twisted into a furious pout. Her hands clutched the video game controller fiercely as she once again took her rage out on her sister through the fine medium of Mario Kart. “I want to go out sometimes too!”

“You would find these dinners totally boring,” Sigrid answered, practically falling over as she leaned her whole body into the virtual curve. “There’s just a lot of speeches, hardly any dancing. Plus all the food comes out in miniature.”

“I love tiny food!” Tilda protested as she launched Donkey Kong off a ramp. “It’s not fair. I never get to dress up nice like that.”

Sigrid drove Yoshi into the grass and groaned. “I don’t know what to tell you, Tilly. You’ll get your turn eventually. It was just bad luck that I was born first, I guess.”

“All the magazines love you,” Tilda continued. “They say you have beauty _and_ brains, talking about your degree, stuff like that. There’s one newspaper that thinks you don’t belong on Mister Percy’s committee though cuz you’re too young, and Da just put you there ‘cuz you’re his daughter.”

“Thanks, Til, that’s really nice.” Sigrid slumped back in the chair. Second place, unsurprisingly.

“Da says I shouldn’t read that stuff but I think it’s funny how they think they know everything. They’re wrong a lot. Like one of them said that Da was looking for a _new mom_ for us!” Tilda collapsed into giggles, the controller falling to the floor with a clatter. “Just because he wore fancy clothes to that thing last month. Like, it’s his _job_ to wear fancy clothes to things! That’s what being a king is.”

Well, it was fairly easy to believe that a magazine might say such a thing. Less easy was to believe that their Da would think he had any time left for romance after trying to run a country and a family both. Sigrid smiled. “Well, there’s a bit more to it than that. But I hope you keep thinking that way, Tilly, at least for a little while. Now pick a new course so I can kick your butt.” 

~*~

Sigrid was elbow-deep in grant proposals when she received a text message from an unknown number. 

_**440812857932:** Are you busy next Thurs? There is an art show/fundraiser in Silverfish Village benefiting my mother’s charity & some company would be nice._

She frowned. Maybe it was a wrong number? That happened sometimes. Still, it was hard not to feel a little freaked out as she texted back.

_**Sigrid:** Who is this???_

The responses came in quick succession.

_**440812857932:** Sorry!!!!! Hello! It’s Legolas! I got Eredhon to give me your number from when you were in Mirkwood. _

_**440812857932:** Anyway Tauriel has a conflict so if you want to go it starts at 8 pm but I will arrive at 9pm_

_**440812857932:** It’s cocktail attire_

She pulled up her calendar and was surprised to find that Thursday was in fact completely open. It was nice of Legolas to invite her to something, let alone that something being a benefit for his deceased mother’s charity. What could it hurt to go with him? She opened the message back up and tapped out her reply.

_**Sigrid:** ohhh Hi! sounds interesting. whats the press situation?_

_**440812857932:** A few arts journos, possibly one or two of the more reputable lifestyle magazines. Not much, and htey tend to leave before the dinner and speeches_

_**440812857932:** *they_

Well that wouldn’t be too bad. She’d have to read up on the charity just in case someone asked her about it, but she had time. 

_**Sigrid:** sure, I’ll come. sounds fun! should i meet you there, or…?_

_**440812857932:** I’ll just pick you up at 8:45. I’ll send details to your security office too. _

_**Sigrid:** Awesome. Looking forward to it!_

There was no more response. Either he’d been called away or this was just another one of Legolas’ quirks, like how his eyebrows seemed to move of their own accord as he chose his words. Sigrid shrugged, saved his number as _~*~Legs For Days~*~_ and started googling the fundraiser.

It turned out that before she died, Legolas’ mother had been a talented visual artist who used her position as Queen to advocate for arts education in Mirkwood schools. Sometime after she passed, King Thranduil had begun the HM Queen Ellenath Oropherion Endowment for the Arts. This benefit was to allow the Endowment to begin work in Dale as well. Sigrid raised her eyebrows as she scrolled through the blurb about the gala on their website. Why would they care about a bunch of humans? It was appreciated, anyway. Dale was certainly doing better than it was eight years ago, but the city still needed plenty of help, especially in the arts where no one seemed inclined to pour their tax dollars.

The week flew by, and before she knew it she was sitting at the bottom of the stairs, fastening her shoes so she would be ready when Legolas’ car arrived. Dagní was already at the warehouse-cum-art studio, evaluating the space along with whoever Mirkwood had sent. Sigrid felt better knowing she had Dagní on her side, doing everything it took to keep her safe. She had done her job as well; after careful deliberation, Sigrid chose a simple knee-length black dress, small gold and diamond drop earrings, and a natural-looking face of makeup. Everything was perfectly in place.

Legolas greeted her kindly when she climbed into the limousine, and when they arrived he offered her his arm as they went into the venue. It was absolutely dreamy. Each piece of art was hung on white walls or placed on white square plinths, illuminated individually. The rest of the room was lit solely by fairy lights wrapped in tulle, strung back and forth across the ceiling so many times that there was still plenty of light to see by. Music played just below the noise of conversation. A raised dais held only a single lectern, behind which hung a projector screen which at the moment just cycled through some sort of whimsical screen-saver.

“Wow,” Sigrid breathed, unable to decide what to look at on any given moment.

“Yes, they do like to put on a spectacle,” Legolas agreed as he led them over to the generously-stocked bar. “It probably would have been my father coming tonight if he could have convinced yours to attend as well. He so loves to show off for people he wants to impress.”

She let that roll around her mind for a moment, allowing Legolas to order for her. “Legolas, is there something you know that I don’t?”

He merely gave her a sort of smirk, handed her the drink, then nodded his head towards one of the art displays. “Shall we?”

She took a sip of her beverage, some sort of pinkish cocktail in a champagne flute, and decided she liked it quite a lot. It wouldn’t do to press Legolas on the topic anyway; their friendship was too new and even if it weren’t, this was hardly the time nor place to attempt to confirm whether her da was getting a bit too cozy to the King of Mirkwood. She’d just have to keep an eye out herself.

The susurrus of the crowd rose and fell, a gentle backdrop to her thoughts as she examined the art before her. At one point a reporter from the local paper did approach her, asking for her to pose with Legolas in front of one of the pieces. He was clearly used to it, but it still baffled Sigrid sometimes that anyone cared where she was at any given time. Still, the smile came easily when the flash went off.

“Thank you, Your Highness...es,” the reporter fumbled, putting away the camera in favor of a voice recorder. “Would you mind giving a statement for the _Dale Tribune?”_

Legolas nodded somberly and bent forward to speak into the recorder. “It’s absolutely wonderful that so many could be with us tonight not only to honor my mother’s memory, but to continue the work she so deeply cared about: keeping art accessible in every community. We are so pleased to partner with the High Council of Dale and their Fine Arts Committee to support their mission to empower and encourage every citizen to express themselves and take pride in the nation they are building. She would be so proud of the work being done not only at home in Mirkwood, but also the efforts to reach out and support our neighbors as well. I know I am.”

Sigrid watched him, agog. That _had_ to be memorized, right? 

“Princess Sigrid?”

Her smile remained fixed on her face as she thought frantically for even one line half as good as the speech Legolas had given. Maybe if she started talking it would come to her? “Allow me to echo those sentiments expressed by Prince Legolas. It is a lovely evening benefitting a very important cause and I feel quite honored to be able to take part and– ” She hesitated a moment; the small recorder stared at her accusingly. 

“A-and lend my support. I– So much was lost in the Great Fire. Not just possessions, not just lives, but, um, whole parts of our culture were lost as well. I can only hope that with this wonderful support from our neighbors in Mirkwood we can begin to heal that wound through, um, through new creation. We’re all very grateful to the Ellenath Oropherion Endowment for their support.”

“Thank you so much!” the journalist grinned, snapping the device off and putting it in her pocket. 

“Thank you,” Legolas answered. 

As soon as the journalist turned away, Sigrid sagged against a nearby table. “Oh good gods,” she breathed. “I’m so bad at speaking off the cuff.”

He just patted her lightly on the shoulder. “File that away. They always want a statement.”

“I thought that people would ask me questions, not just like, ask me to start talking! I wasn’t too bad, was I?”

Legolas shrugged. “Well you may have said the word ‘support’ three or four times in a row, but you’re no Prince Fíli. That poor dwarf is handsome as the day is long, and regal too, but if he doesn’t have his remarks prepared it’s a bit pitiful to tell you the truth. And anyway, Emilien is good; she’ll edit kindly.”

“Is that so? Well many thanks to Emilien.” Sigrid did her best to shake it off and enjoy the rest of the benefit. It helped to know that there was some other royal out there who was still as bad at this as she was. Soon she was distracted by servers in black jackets moving past, holding aloft trays of hors d'oeuvres. Again with the tiny foods. At least with her mouth full she wouldn’t say the word “support” again. 

Hors d’oeuvres turned into wine, someone called people to their seats, and the speeches began. Sigrid tried to pay attention but there was only so much one could do while still mostly unfamiliar with the organization, and not particularly caring about new plans moving forward. But she smiled, nodded, and clapped at the appropriate times and generally did her best to look engaged by the slide show. After about forty-five minutes of various speakers, the assembly was let loose again, this time to begin placing silent bids on the art. 

Sigrid had expected to pick out something and buy it, just for show’s sake, but to her surprise there was a piece there that she genuinely wanted to put in her room. So she left Legolas’ side and made a beeline for it, dodging cocktail glasses and trays and handbags and smiling the whole time. Of course it was at the back of the room, with everything and everyone between them. 

When she finally arrived, there were no bids listed. “Oh well,” she murmured. So much the better. She wrote her assigned number on the first line and thought for a moment, then put down 20% above the minimum bid. She wanted this piece and if anyone else wanted it, they’d darn well have to pay for it. 

Even though people weren’t permitted to linger by your bid, she found herself coming back to the painting again and again. It wasn’t large or dramatic, like several of the other pieces on display. Sigrid had no idea who the artist was, but she didn’t care. They had created a beautiful painting of a sunrise over Long Lake. Shadows of the Iron Hills were dotted along the horizon, and the water lapped gently against a dock in the foreground. Whoever this artist was, they’d painted home.

“Ah, Princess Sigrid,” said a snivelling voice from too close behind her. “I see you’ve made a bid.”

Her spine stiffened straight as a board. “Alfrid.” Sigrid turned to him, her courteous smile her armor. “I had no idea you’d be here tonight.”

“But of course,” he replied with a leering grin. “As an _esteemed member_ of our community, I do try my very best to be involved.” He paused, leaned in close, and added, “I’m so pleased you’ve begun to do the same, my dear.”

The words curdled in her ears. Long before she had been a princess, he had been calling her _my dear_ with that sinister, creepy tone. “It’s ‘Your Highness,’ actually,” she answered as steadily as she could. Just when she was about to make some excuse about needing the ladies’ room, another elf arrived to look at the wall as well. 

“Your Highness, allow me to introduce myself,” he said smoothly. “I am Lindir, of Rivendell, and may I just say how pleased we are to see you joining us this evening.” 

“Lindir, hello,” she replied, taking the offered hand to shake it gently. “So very pleased to meet you.” Alfrid coughed none too subtly. “This is Alfrid. He used to be the uh, shall we say, personal attendant to the former Master of Lake Town, and now he…” She couldn’t resist the opportunity. “I’m so sorry, would you please enlighten us on what you’re doing now?”

Alfrid pursed his lips and answered, “I would refer to myself as more of a ‘Community Organizer.’”

“How interesting.” Lindir smiled benignly, though he abruptly changed the subject. “Have you found anything you like?”

The question was definitely aimed at Sigrid. Oh, Lindir was one to hang onto, she could tell that straight away. “Why yes, actually. I’m quite fond of this one, here.”

“I don’t see why,” Alfrid sneered. “It’s just a sunset. It isn’t _provocative,_ it doesn’t make you _feel anything._ It doesn’t even display any real sort of technical skill. The artist clearly just threw a sun and some water on the canvas and called it a day. It’s hardly _art._ ”

Lindir made a face but Sigrid could hardly see it through all the red clouding her vision. “Forgive me,” she began, acid lacing every word. “I might not be an expert on the subject? But I wasn’t aware a painting was required to check all those boxes in order to be considered _art._ ” Alfrid opened his mouth to speak again but Sigrid beat him to it. “And anyway, I certainly feel something when I look at this piece. I feel _happy,_ and hopeful _._ It’s not ‘just’ a sunset. It isn’t a sunset at all. That sun is rising.”

“Don’t be petulant, it’s not a real place. Either one of us could be right,” he flipped, though the admission clearly galled him.

“Oh, no, I’m right,” Sigrid chirped, a fire lit in her gut. “It is a real place: it’s Lake Town. Don’t you recognize it? The dock in the foreground, there, then the water and – perhaps you didn’t look closely – these are the Iron Hills, far off in the distance. The viewer is facing East. This is a sunrise.”

“She seems to have got you there, Alfrid,” Lindir said, hiding his smirk behind his wine glass.

Alfrid’s expression was quickly souring. “So it’s a sunrise. Hardly groundbreaking. Eight year olds draw sunrises every day.”

“Who says art has to be groundbreaking? Maybe I just like the colors. Maybe I want a reminder of the home I used to have, the _view_ I used to have out my kitchen window. Maybe, just maybe, I’m allowed to like things _just because,_ Alfrid, have you ever thought of that?” Sigrid’s heart was racing, and her face felt far too warm for the temperature of the room. She took a deep breath, exhaling as discreetly as she could as she kept a severe smile fixed in place.

Alfrid’s mouth hung open, gaping like a fish. He closed it, opened it, then closed it again with a snap. He’d already turned halfway around before he remembered the propriety he owed her. “Your Highness,” he muttered, and made his exit.

“Forgive me, Lindir,” she murmured, staring at her feet as Legolas swept out of nowhere and placed his arm around her waist.

“Was that man bothering you?” he asked, eyes full of concern.

“I dare say it’s Alfrid you should be checking on,” Lindir smirked. “Our new favorite darling just gave him a verbal lashing your father would appreciate.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sigrid said, aghast. “It was totally inappropriate. There’s bad blood there, and, well. I guess I didn’t exactly rise above it.”

Lindir just raised his eyebrows. “Perhaps not. But I certainly wouldn’t blame you. I couldn’t stand the man for ten minutes, let alone a lifetime.”

Sigrid tried unsuccessfully to hide her smile, and relaxed against Legolas for a moment before a voice came over the speaker and declared it was time for the winning bidders to collect their spoils. “Well, shall we get our things and go home?”

As she walked the distance across the room and out towards Legolas’ waiting car, she held her painting in front of her like a banner. The past few weeks had been a frenetic kaleidoscope of faces and fashions, policies and polite smiles. Tonight, though, she finally felt like she was getting the hang of the job. Two cows? Hell, she was worth the entire herd.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another reminder that Dagní is the creation of theinheritanceofgeek so if you love our Sigrid's head of security, go let her know. =)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks for reading!


	3. Big News

Sigrid returned home one evening after a daytime charity appearance, kicked off her shoes into her room, and padded to the kitchen. Her nylon-clad feet slipped about every other step, and suddenly she was eight years old again, “skating” around their kitchen with her mother, letting Bain try to pull her across the room until the feet of her tights ripped. How far from those days they were now. Her father was a king, she was a princess, and her sister was reading celebrity gossip magazines at the table.

“Tilda, come on now. We’ve talked about this. Those things are no good, you know that.”

She shoveled a spoonful of chocolate-flavored cereal into her mouth and shrugged, then flipped a page. “I don’t care,” Tilda said. “The dresses are pretty.”

“The dresses are pretty,” Sigrid repeated under her breath. Well, that was fair enough. “Is Da going to be home for dinner? Or is that your dinner right there?” 

“Thish’ my dinner,” Tilda answered through another mouthful. “Cook’s night off. Da’s at some meeting, should be home soon. Dunno where Bain’s at but I bet Dagní does.”

“Great.” She looked at her sister, at the cereal box, at the clock on the microwave. 7:13 pm. Well, who was going to tell her what to do? She was a princess, after all. Sigrid grabbed a bowl and spoon and sat down across from her sister. “Pass the milk.”

The two sisters sat there quietly, crunching away while Sigrid read the sides of the cereal box and Tilda flipped through her gossip magazine. It was… _nice._ It felt like old times, a welcome reprieve from the frenetic pace of royal life. The peace lasted a full ten minutes before Tilda gasped.

“Siggy! You’re in here!”

“What? Why?”

Tilda held up the magazine for a split second before pulling it back to read. “The section on celebrity sightings. Fancy people at fancy parties, that kinda thing. It says, _'Dapper Duo: Prince Legolas of Mirkwood and Princess Sigrid of Dale chat it up at the HM Queen Elenath Oropherion Endowment for the Arts Gala on July 17.'”_

“‘Dapper duo?’ ‘Chat it up?’” Sigrid made a face. “Who writes this crap?”

“Interns,” Tilda sighed, sounding twice her age. “You look nice though. It’s a good picture. And anyway, that’s only the first one. There’s another on the other side of this perfume ad. _‘Royal Romance?: Princess Sigrid cozies up to Prince Legolas as they admire a painting.’"_

This time Sigrid couldn’t help the snorting laugh that came. “Romance? As if.”

“Well you two _do_ look very cozy,” Tilda smirked, and this time she handed the magazine over. 

Sure enough, someone had snapped a quick photo of the moment immediately after Alfrid had scurried away. Legolas’ long arm was wrapped around her waist, and she was leaning her head against his chest. In reality, she’d been about to cry, she was so mad at Alfrid, but she had to admit that from the photographer’s perspective they sure did look… comfortable together, if somewhat mismatched in the height department. 

Sigrid vaguely registered the door to the garage opening and closing, and she shook her head. Pushing the magazine back to her sister, she said, “Legolas and I are just friends. He’s like an extra big brother.”

“That’s good,” Bard replied, striding into the room wearing a slightly ruffled suit, hair all a mess from running his fingers through it too many times. “He’s way too old for you.” He dropped a packet down onto the table next to Sigrid’s elbow, toed off his shoes, and threw his suit coat over a chair. 

“Yeah, uh, that too. Hey Da,” she said, picking the packet up and turning it around. There had to be 50 pages in the unmarked envelope. 

“Hey.” Bard kissed the top of Tilda’s head, grabbed a bowl and spoon, and started in on his own breakfast-for-dinner. He sat in between them, creating a picture much like the one they used to make in their tiny Lake Town home. 

She could hardly believe that in this huge palace with the giant kitchen, the big island with bar seating for six, and the twenty-person-long table in the formal dining room, their little family chose to gather around the tiny little breakfast nook in the corner. Seemed old habits died hard. After everything they’d been through, they were still a family. Warmth blossomed through Sigrid’s chest, and her nose prickled with the threat of tears. Then she remembered the envelope. “What’s this?” Sigrid slid a finger under the seal and tore it open slowly. 

“I was at a meeting with Lord Elrond Peredhel,” Bard answered, raising his bowl to take a drink of sugary milk. “Talking about the Rivendell Council that’s coming up?” 

“Yeah…?” She slid the papers out of the envelope and found a schedule on the first page. “Da,” Sigrid breathed. “What _is_ this?”

“Elrond’s planning out the agendas and one of the afternoons is dedicated to social services. He wants you to speak.”

Sigrid flipped absently through the papers, unseeing. “He… what?”

“Cool,” Tilda chirped, turning to the crossword puzzle. “Got a pen?”

Bard plucked one from his breast pocket but still grinned at Sigrid, dots of milk stuck in his day-old stubble. “Yeah, I told him what you were doing for the Healthcare Committee and he thought it sounded interesting. He said he’d love to hear what you had to say about your process, your proposal, successes and struggles, all that sort of stuff. So I said you would be delighted to give a talk, he gave you twenty minutes, and now you need to put the RC on your calendar. And tell Dagní too.”

“I… Oh my gosh, Da, this is… _Seriously?”_

“Seriously.”

“Wow…” Sigrid sat there, stunned, a vague smile on her lips while she processed the information. She was going to speak at this year’s RC, in front of leaders and important people from every nation on Arda. This was the opportunity of a _lifetime_.

Bard poured himself another bowl of cereal and spoke up again, his overtly casual tone belying a touch of real concern. “So what’s this I hear about you dating Legolas?”

“What? No! Gosh, that’s ridiculous. Like I said, just friends.”

“And there’s no one… else... ? On the radar?” 

Sigrid blushed furiously, keeping her eyes on her cereal. “No! Come on, Da. What’s with the twenty questions?”

“What, can’t a man just check in with his beautiful, intelligent, talented, eldest daughter? It’s only natural, you’re going out pretty regularly now, anyone would expect you would meet someone nice.” Bard wiped his mouth off on the back of his hand. “I’m just asking.”

“How do you spell King Thranduil’s name?” Tilda broke in, pen at the ready.

Sigrid rolled her eyes and got to her feet, handing her da a napkin in the process. “If there’s any news in the romance department, you’ll be the first to know. Don’t worry.” 

She let her da spell out Tilda’s answer while she put her bowl and spoon in the sink and left it there with only the tiniest twinge of guilt. She used to yell at her siblings for doing that nearly every day, it seemed. Why couldn’t they ever just put things in the dishwasher? But now they didn’t have a dishwasher, they had a person who washed the dishes in a giant, cube-shaped industrial thing that washed, rinsed, _and_ sanitized. She didn’t even know how to work it. How strange her life had become.

“I’m going to go write a speech now, I guess,” she announced, picking up the pile of papers. Her heartbeat pounded in her chest just thinking about it. “Maybe by the time I finish I’ll actually be able to believe it’s happening.”

“You’ll be fine,” Bard tutted, clearing his and Tilda’s bowls as well. “You have time.”

“Sure.” It wasn’t like he had just orchestrated what had to be the most important moment of her life so far. No big deal. 

~*~

Sigrid worked on that presentation harder than she had worked on anything in her life, including her final thesis in undergrad. She watched YouTube videos of other addresses to the assembly, she got input from Percy and Hilda-Bianca, she practiced on her stuffed animals, she practiced in front of her mirror, she vowed to never again practice in front of a mirror, and finally, she practiced on her Da the night before she left. It got her mixed results, unfortunately, as all he’d been able to do was wipe a genuine tear away from his eye and whisper how proud he was. That probably meant it was a good speech. Probably.

Dagní had been working overtime as well, coordinating with the security staff in Rivendell, setting up travel plans and requesting access cards. Sigrid was glad to have her company on the plane, and especially glad to have Dagní by her side as they navigated the giant campus at which the Rivendell Council would be held. Even as Dagní swore up and down she’d never actually visited the place, she effortlessly led them from building to building. They picked up their badges and conference materials, confirmed the time of the tech test for Sigrid’s slides, and when Dagní finally dropped them off at their rooms, Sigrid was ready to skip dinner in favor of avoiding her fate through television shows.

“You can’t do that,” Dagní tutted, brushing a speck of dust off Sigrid’s shoulder. “You are going to have a nice time meeting everyone else. Legolas is here, and his friend Tauriel, who was elsewhere during the Mirkwood state dinner. I think you’ll like King Thorin’s nephews as well. So you won’t be stuck with your father and a bunch of boring old elves you don’t know.” She smiled. “Or, at least not all the time.”

“Oh, good,” Sigrid breathed. “I mean, obviously I’m looking forward to meeting everyone but… It’s going to be a long weekend. I’m the youngest person here, aren’t I?”

“Indeed you are. Now go take a shower and pretty yourself up. I’ll be around, just phone me if you need anything.”

“Thank you so much.” Sigrid’s knees were weak as she enveloped Dagní in a huge hug. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

When Sigrid actually looked at her room, she had to admit it was really nice. The entire room was bathed in creams and golds, a queen size four-poster bed draped in gauzy curtains took up most of the space, and the dresser, wardrobe, and desk were built of warm wood, carved with simple, elegant vine motifs. It was beautiful, and just the kind of calm she needed.

She took her time bathing, drying her hair, doing her makeup, and selecting her jewelry. She was going to recycle the dress she’d worn to the art gala, but with a scarf and some different accessories she figured no one would mind. It just felt wrong to her, buying a new dress for every single function. Besides, she’d be in suits the rest of the time anyway. 

When she met her da in the hallway, he was still fiddling with his cufflinks. “You look very smart,” she said, and he did. He wore a navy blue suit with a soft pink shirt and darker pink tie, looking just like, and yet so unlike the man she had grown up with. Before the fire, he’d never had the occasion to wear a suit except for the day they put her ma on that raft and sent her down the Rushing River. Yet the blues and pinks suited him today, lightening up his eyes and softening his sometimes too-gruff appearance. 

“And you look very pretty,” Bard answered, his hand stilling at his cuff so he could offer her his arm. “Shall we?”

When they finally found the room where the dinner would be served, Sigrid was instantly reminded of a wedding; round tables dotted the floor, decorated with long, cream-colored tablecloths and ornate floral centerpieces. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, bathing the entire room in a warm yellow light. People dressed all in black dotted the perimeter of the room, clearly security personnel, and a team of elves buzzed around a podium, showing all the guests to the appropriate seats. Sigrid was glad to have their help; she quickly noticed that the chairs were not quite all the same heights. As people of all races would be seated together, there had to be accommodations made so the dwarf and hobbit guests could look their elven colleagues in the eye. A closer look revealed that even the silverware was of slightly different sizes (though the wine glasses remained uniform throughout). The Rivendell hosting staff had thought of everything.

Bard and Sigrid took their place the line and only had to wait a couple minutes before it was their turn. Lindir looked up from the book on the podium, a tight smile on his face. “Princess Sigrid, King Bard, welcome.”

“Lindir, hi!” Sigrid grinned. “Da, Lindir was at the arts gala I attended with Legolas.”

Bard nodded towards the elf. “Oh, nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure, I’m sure.” The stress of keeping the event running smoothly was clearly wearing on Lindir. He was strung tight as a bow as he said to an assistant, “Please show His Majesty and Her Royal Highness to their seats at table nineteen, thank you.”

“Thank you!” Sigrid chimed. When all Lindir did was nod in response, Sigrid just shrugged and followed the other elf to their table in the middle of the room. She was pleased to see that King Thranduil and Prince Legolas also had seats at their table, as well as Thranduil’s ward and Legolas’ good friend, Tauriel, whom she hadn’t had a chance to meet yet. The other three seats were taken by a delegation of representatives from Gondor who still hadn’t arrived, unfortunately held up by some weather event to the south.

Eventually Lord Elrond stood up and welcomed everyone with a short speech, then nodded once and the doors sprang open. Servers in tuxedos swept into the room with trays held high, bearing enough cups of soup for each table. Then as soon as Sigrid set her spoon down, someone swept it away and replaced it with a salad. She had gotten used to being served, but this kind of hyper-coordinated affair put even the Mirkwood state dinner to shame. It was the same way throughout the whole meal; she hardly had the chance to savor the taste of the previous dish before the next one was put in front of her. 

Tauriel kept the conversation flowing, which relieved Sigrid because neither her da nor Thranduil were particularly talkative and she’d worried the task might fall to her. However Tauriel knew just what questions to ask, involving everyone more or less equally until Thranduil and Bard had splintered off to have their own snark-based conversation. 

Dessert came and went, and Lord Elrond stood again to bid everyone a good night. The general noise of a crowd leaving an assembly filled the room: chairs scuffing away from the table and back again, muttered conversation, heels clacking on the tile. Tauriel made her way around the table with a smile on her face.

“I’m so glad I finally got to meet you!” she said, looking as if she actually meant it. “Legolas and I are going to stick around in the lounge on the first floor of the apartments, have a few drinks. Do you want to come too?”

Sigrid looked to her da, who seemed to hardly notice that the crowd was leaving, he was so wrapped up in whatever conversation he was having with Thranduil. “Uh… Sure!”

“Great! I can’t wait to hear more about you.” 

“Um… Thanks?” Sigrid could hardly believe it, but Tauriel really did sound completely genuine. She kissed Bard on the top of his head and said, “Hey, Da, I’m going to hang out with Tauriel and Legolas for a while so I’ll see you later, hm?”

“Bye,” he answered distantly, smiling as Thranduil poured more wine into his glass. 

It was a short walk back to the lounge, where a handful of people were already spread around the bar and a few tables. Legolas strode right up to the bar and ordered 3 glasses of Dorwinion Red.

“No, no no no,” Sigrid said, waving her hand so the bartender would see her. “No wine for me please, sorry, just a gin and tonic. Thank you.”

“What?” Legolas teased. “Not good enough for you? I thought you’d liked it when you visited us in Mirkwood.”

Tauriel hid a smile behind her hand as Sigrid groaned. “No, are you kidding? I love the stuff. The state dinner was great, thanks in no small part to that wine. The next morning, however… Well let’s just say that this Council is too important for me to wake up tomorrow feeling like I got hit by a truck.”

Their drinks arrived and Tauriel led them over to a high-top table where she proceeded to do just what she promised. She asked about Sigrid’s work on the committee, about the classes she took in college, about her family. She teased Sigrid and Legolas about their appearance at the magazine, which set Legolas off about tabloids and amateur photographers selling their cell phone photos for a pittance. By the time he was done with his tirade, his glass was empty.

“Ugh! Look at this, now I need more wine or I’m just going to keep going on about it,” he groaned.

“Valar forbid it,” Tauriel laughed, shooing him away. “Go, please, go.”

As soon as he was out of earshot both of them collapsed into giggles. “Is he always like this?” Sigrid gasped, clutching the stitch in her side. 

“Very nearly,” Tauriel admitted as she wiped a tear from her eye. “He gets the drama from his father, that’s for sure.”

“So I’m not the only one who’s noticed?” Sigrid grinned, picked up her glass, and looked down her nose across the table. “ _Would you please repeat that?”_ she cooed in the lowest voice she could manage. _“I’m afraid I couldn’t hear you over how_ fabulous _I am.”_

When Tauriel started laughing again, Sigrid couldn’t help herself either. She was amazed at how well she and Tauriel were getting on, and she had to admit that it felt really good to make another friend in this place. Tauriel was tall and beautiful, and if reports could be believed, she could kick Sigrid’s ass from here to Bree. She was amazing.

As Tauriel doubled over, Sigrid looked over to the bar to make a goofy face at Legolas. He must have gone to the bathroom or something though, because she couldn’t find his long blonde hair anywhere. However there was someone else sitting on a stool looking over at them, grinning. He was dressed in a black shirt and slacks, his top button open and silver tie tugged loose in what appeared to be a purposefully inviting way. Sigrid gave him a little head nod and a smile, but he didn’t seem to see her. 

“Tauriel,” she said lowly, “don’t look now, but there’s someone at the bar looking at you.”

“Ooh!” Tauriel’s eyes flashed. “Who is it?”

Sigrid shook her head. “Hard to tell because it’s dark and he’s sitting. Longish hair, close cropped beard… Dwarf, maybe? He’s cute at this distance, anyway.”

“Hm. Well then.” She made a big show of stretching her arms and back, turning this way and that until she got a good enough look at the guy. 

“Well?” Sigrid pressed. “Can you tell who it is?”

“Who what is?” Legolas asked, swooping behind her to place another round of drinks on the table. 

Sigrid leaned in close to Legolas and answered, “There’s someone making eyes at Tauriel from the bar.”

“Oh, Kíli?”

“Yeah,” Tauriel confirmed, turning back to them. Her voice was even but her eyes were bright and her cheeks pink. “It’s Prince Kíli.”

“Wow, okay.” By nature of the event, Sigrid knew that there would be royalty and dignitaries crawling all over the place. Yet even now she still couldn’t squash that little piece of her that still marveled at celebrity.

“Both of the Durins are here this year,” Legolas said. “That’s Fíli sitting next to him there. He will be giving an address tomorrow, I saw. Something about a mine project inside the Lonely Mountain. He’s been quite involved in domestic issues, very concerned about how to keep adding jobs as their numbers have started growing again.”

“Oh?” Sigrid could certainly understand that. Perhaps he would be a good one to talk to for advice on her committee issues. 

“Kíli, I suspect, is just here for the food.”

“Oh, you.” Tauriel rolled her eyes. “Give him more credit! Both brothers are equally smart, and accomplished, and handsome.” She drifted off, and her eyes slid over Sigrid’s shoulder to look at the dwarf brothers again.

“I see,” Sigrid smirked. “And equally single?”

“Why, are you shopping around?” Legolas asked, just as Tauriel answered, “Yes.”

“Fíli is more serious than Kíli, you’ll find,” Legolas continued. 

“He’s really nice,” Tauriel interjected, leaning across the table. “He’s done a lot for charity, and won a medal for distinguished service during the orcish invasion. Both of them fought bravely. It’s a good story, if you can get Prince Kíli to tell it. Prince Fíli never will.” 

“Even so,” Legolas said with a roll of his eyes. “They’re both quite amiable and, yes, eligible.”

“I’m not _shopping around,_ or anything,” Sigrid grumbled. “I’m just seeing if there’s anyone else at this party for me to talk to besides you two knuckle-heads. And besides, Kíli’s obviously spoken for.”

“He is not spoken for,” Tauriel protested. “It’s just a… Just a crush.”

“No shit.”

“Yes shit, and he’s coming over right now,” Tauriel hissed as she combed her fingers through her hair.

“You look fine,” Legolas muttered.

“You look great!” Sigrid nodded, smiling.

“You look absolutely resplendent this evening, Tauriel,” Kíli said, sliding up to their table with affected grace. “I’m so glad you were able to make it this year. Hello, Legolas.” “Hello, Prince Kíli,” Tauriel murmured. The smattering of freckles across her cheeks were almost swallowed up in her blush now. Sigrid coughed quietly into her hand, and Tauriel gasped. “Oh goodness, where are my manners? Prince Kíli, have you met Princess Sigrid?”

 _“Mae Govannen,”_ Kíli cooed, taking her outstretched hand and kissing the knuckles lightly. 

“Charmed, I’m sure,” she chuckled. “It’s a shame we haven’t had the chance to meet each other until now.”

“I completely agree. We’re next door neighbors, and yet our paths have never crossed until this very moment? Unthinkable.”

His tone was full of a playful exaggeration that Sigrid wasn’t quite sure how to handle. “Well, everyone’s busy,” she said with a shrug. “So how do you know Tauriel?”

Legolas snorted and Kíli stammered a bit. “W-well, you know. Everyone, ah, gets around.”

“Don’t you lie to her, Kíli,” Legolas warned. “Go on, Tauriel. Tell Princess Sigrid how you met.”

Sigrid leaned over the table, getting as close as she could so the hum of the growing crowd wouldn't drown out a single detail. She picked up her drink and sipped slowly through the tiny cocktail straw, relishing the bitterness of the tonic and the sweet cucumber flavor in the gin. Legolas had gotten her the good stuff, and now Tauriel was going to dish up some quality celebrity gossip. No one could be above it all the time, especially when the involved parties were sitting right there.

Tauriel smiled, looking much more confident now that she apparently had the upper hand. She gave Kíli one last smirk and launched into the story. Apparently there had been a time not too long ago that Kíli emphatically referred to as his “harmless little rebellious streak.” He, his brother, and a few of his mates had decided to do a little urban exploring one evening, but instead of a long-empty factory, they decided to hit a fancy hotel on a Saturday night. The same hotel, Kíli was astonished to find out, that Prince Legolas and Tauriel were staying in during a multi-nation goodwill tour. Security found them easily, apprehended them, and left their fates up to Tauriel and Legolas. No one wanted to cause an international incident, but they also didn’t want to let the two princes of Erebor off the hook with just a warning.

“So I told him he needed to do fifty push-ups, and kiss my boot each time he went down.”

“You’re kidding,” Sigrid breathed.

“She isn’t,” Kíli confirmed. “Though I did make a point to offer some other, more _entertaining_ ways for me to go down.”

Sigrid’s eyes widened as she looked between the three other people around the table. Tauriel was beet red and Legolas was just rolling his eyes again. 

“Cool it, Kíli. Sigrid’s new to this, she can’t tell when you’re teasing.”

“Apologies, apologies,” Kíli sighed, hands up. “Anyway, I did what the fair lady asked of me, she let us go, my brother threatened my life if anyone were to ever find out, and the rest is history. Now enough of my sordid past. Sigrid, why don’t you tell us a little more about yours?”

Sigrid blanched, unprepared to take control of the conversation after being absolutely floored by their story. “I, ah, well–” But before she could get her feet under her, another dwarf came up to the table. Tauriel had been right about “equally handsome,” at least. He had wavy blonde hair to his shoulders, with the characteristic dwarven braids and beads that showed rank and family history. His suit, unlike his brother’s, was still immaculate, buttons fastened to emphasize his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His red tie nestled snugly under his bearded chin, and the white collar was still folded sharply down around his neck. 

“Kíli,” he murmured, bright blue eyes looking stern, “what are you doing here? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Fíli! Darling brother! Look who I have found!”

“Legolas. Tauriel.” Fíli nodded to each of them but when it was Sigrid’s turn, he hesitated. “And, ah…”

He really didn’t recognize her? Like Kíli had said, their kingdoms were literally next door neighbors. “Princess Sigrid,” she answered coolly, reaching out a hand. “Of Dale. Pleased to meet you.”

With a tight smile, he gave her a rather perfunctory handshake and clipped, “A pleasure. Kíli, we really must be going. Uncle Thorin–”

“Uncle Thorin needs to learn how to stop worrying about us quite so much, and let us enjoy the RC for once in our miserable lives. Come, Fíli. Have a drink with us! Sigrid was just going to tell us about herself.”

“I’d rather not,” he replied. “We must be going, and everyone already knows the story anyhow.” Fíli shrugged. “City destroyed by fire, ruler mysteriously disappears, working-class man with a tragic background rises to the top and they make him King for whatever reason, which leaves him and his family scrambling to catch up and learn royal social convention and international diplomacy. Not that Lake Town had ever been known for its vast global influence.” He sniffed. “In that regard, Dale is far exceeding expectations already. The infant monarch of the infant nation is doing quite well, considering.”

Infant monarch? “Well,” Sigrid said, taking a long drink. She’d failed to keep stirring it while Tauriel was talking, leaving all the gin at the bottom. So much the better to soothe her rising nerves. “I’ll pass along the compliment.”

“They _are_ doing well,” Tauriel chirped in an obvious effort to clear the air. “And they’re doing a lot of good, too. Princess Sigrid’s going to speak about the healthcare initiative she’s working on.”

“Yes, I saw her listed,” Fíli answered. “Curious indeed that Elrond gave time to a project still in such a nascent stage. I applied for nearly five years before I made it onto the schedule.”

Kíli elbowed his brother sharply. “Seriously?”

“Well, it’s true.”

But Sigrid had had enough. _“If_ you’ll excuse me.” She picked up her purse, drained her drink, and slapped some cash on the table. “I think I need to leave now. Thank you for inviting me out, Tauriel. I had a nice time with you.”

“Good night,” she answered, brow furrowed. “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast.” 

“Good night, Sigrid,” Legolas added softly, as Kíli scolded his brother quietly in Khûzdul.

She turned away from the table just as tears filled her eyes, and made it all the way to the elevator before they fell. “Damn it,” she muttered, stabbing the call button over and over and over until the chime announced the doors would open. She pressed the button for her floor only once and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand. The Musak played softly, and she cursed the smear of brown-black makeup across her hand. She was _this close_ to blessed freedom when a broad hand slipped between the closing doors and they bounced back into place with a shudder.

“Wait, Sigrid!” Kíli was breathing heavily, eyes full of concern. “Please, let me apologize for my brother. He isn’t normally such an utter asshole.”

“No, no,” she sniffed. “It’s fine. He’s right. I don’t belong here like you do. I shouldn’t have accepted the invitation.”

“Don’t be silly,” he said, placing a hand gently on her arm. “You earned your place here. Lord Elrond doesn’t just hand out speaking slots, all right? He obviously thinks that you have something important to say, and I’m really looking forward to finding out what it is.”

The doors dinged again and tried to close, but Kíli pushed them back. “Hey, forget about Fíli. Now don’t tell him I told you, but he’s nervous because he has to speak this weekend too. He isn’t exactly a social butterfly, you know, I think you may have gathered that?”

Sigrid laughed a little and sniffed again. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he repeated softly. “So that made him into a jerk tonight. But don’t worry, he’s really not like that. He’s a nice guy, even if he didn’t show it today. And you’re going to knock it out of the park, all right?”

“All right,” she answered, and found she was able to give him a little smile.

Kíli smiled back, and Sigrid could see why Tauriel had become so flustered by him. His eyes were bright, and his grin cut deep dimples into his cheeks. He was handsome, and he looked at everyone like they mattered. “There you go,” he said, rubbing her arm affectionately. “Now go get some rest and we’ll see you tomorrow.” He stepped out of the elevator, waving as the doors were finally allowed to close. “G’night, Sigrid.”

“Good night.” 

Yet as the elevator jolted into movement, she couldn’t stop the sinking feeling from returning. What did she know about anything? What was she thinking, standing in front of that assembly? Who even cared about what her dinky little city-state was doing? What right did she have to ask them for their support? 

Sigrid slid the key card into the lock and pushed in, kicking her shoes all the way across the room. She couldn’t be bothered to do much more than shuck her clothes off and brush her teeth, and she fell into bed in her underwear, mascara in streaks down her cheeks. Hopefully a good night’s sleep would work its magic, and everything would look better in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, many thanks to [inheritanceofgeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek) also known on tumblr as [mrsmarymorstan](http://mrsmarymorstan.tumblr.com/), who created Dagni and let me play around with her. =)
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	4. Out of Scope

Sigrid woke up before her alarm the next morning. As comfortable as the bed was, it still wasn’t the same as home and she’d yet to master her father’s skill for falling fast asleep at the drop of a hat. After tossing and turning for ten minutes or so, she finally gave up and started getting ready for the day. 

Once she finally started her morning routine, she found the shower was absolutely luxurious. She shaved her legs and armpits, scrubbed her face, and left conditioner in her hair for a full five minutes while she just stood in the warm, gentle spray. Her ma had always told her: you do your best when you feel your best, and you feel your best when you look your best. Now she was ready to put that theory to work. It was the first real day of the Rivendell Council, and she was going to make the most of it.

It ended up taking all of her allotted time to get ready, because no matter what she did she wasn’t satisfied with her hair. Half an hour later it was so overworked that she just braided around the crown of her head and tucked the end into a tight bun. It wasn’t exciting, but it was professional. She fastened her earrings and straightened her clothes, and said a silent prayer to the Valar that she wouldn’t spill her breakfast down her front. She looked at the clock and sighed; it was time to meet her da and go down to eat.

Breakfast was held in the same room as dinner the night before, but with all the decorations and place settings toned down quite a bit. Though there was no assigned seating for breakfast, Thranduil and Tauriel sat at the same table as last night. “Oh, great, they’re already here,” Bard said, and headed straight for them. 

“What was that about meeting new people?” Sigrid asked, though her heart wasn’t in it. No one should have to meet new people before breakfast. 

Tauriel greeted them warmly, and Thranduil even nodded in Sigrid’s general direction. Luckily service came quickly and soon they were so busy eating that conversation was at a minimum. At least, it was until the delegation from Erebor rolled in. Kíli was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, smiling at everyone who would look at him. Fíli was significantly more stoic, heading straight for a table and gesturing vaguely at a server to bring him some coffee. Sigrid rolled her eyes; the least he could do was say ‘thank you,’ but all he did was stare at the wall and sip at his drink while Kíli made his rounds.

“Hey,” Sigrid nudged Tauriel gently with her elbow. “Look who’s here.”

Tauriel’s cheeks pinkened slightly and she shrugged to cover it up. “Well, it’s breakfast time. Everyone’s here.”

“You should go talk to him!” 

“What? No! Come on.” Tauriel hid her face behind her mug of tea. “He’s busy. We’re here on work.”

“Not during breakfast!” Sigrid grinned. But as she teased Tauriel, Kíli threw his head back into a laugh that filled the whole room, clapped the man on the back, and returned to sit down next to Fíli.

“I’ll talk to him later, when he’s alone.” Tauriel whispered. 

Sigrid groaned. “I don’t blame you. After last night, I don’t think his grouch of a brother likes me very much.”

“I don’t think he likes _anyone_ very much,” Tauriel said, quickly adding, “at least not at first. He seems to take a while to warm up to someone.”

“Well that doesn’t mean he gets to be a jerk to me.” 

The two of them fell quiet, choosing instead to let the sounds of the busy room take over until it was time to go. Bard stood up first and drained his tea. “Come on, Siggy–”

“Da!” Sigrid whined, instantly hating the sound of it. Still, she was here on real proper business. He could at least use her full name.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “It is time to go, though. We have to get over to the other building and find our chairs and the translation headsets and all that.”

“Indeed,” Thranduil purred, rising to his feet as well. “Legolas will already be there, I expect. He isn’t usually one for breakfast.”

The four of them walked the short way across the campus to the main auditorium where the majority of the presentations would take place. Sigrid was glad to get even those five minutes outside. Warm sunshine filtered down between the leaves, birds flit from branch to branch, and the fresh air brought her a clarity and focus she’d been missing ever since arriving at Rivendell. When she walked into the building, however, she couldn’t help but be impressed. The architecture managed to look ancient and brand new all at once, with the same dark, warm wood finishes complementing sleek, modern furniture in the lobby. 

Moving into the actual auditorium, she couldn’t believe her eyes. It seemed everything in Rivendell was designed to quietly, elegantly intimidate. Long desks rose three stories up in the huge room, curving around the thrust of the stage like ribs encasing the heart. Two aisles provided access to the seats, and glowing electronic placards sat in front of each one with a name and a nation in crisp block letters. There were headsets and microphones at each place as well, along with the latest edition of the agenda and supplementing documents for each presentation scheduled that day. A few people were seated or milling around, and more came in the doors every minute. 

“Wow,” Sigrid breathed. 

“C’mon, Sig,” Bard said softly, taking her by the elbow. “We’ll be way up there at the top, which isn’t ideal, but at least we’ll be able to see everyone else and judge them from on high.”

Sigrid laughed as she climbed the stairs with him. Surely there was an easier way to get to the top - a place like this would need to have an elevator - but Sigrid didn’t mind the exercise. She knew she’d be begging for it by the end of the morning’s session. It wasn’t difficult to find their seats, and once Sigrid and Bard sat down and put their materials in place, they looked at each other and grinned. 

“Are you ready for your first RC?” Bard asked, beaming with pride.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she answered. “I’m just glad that I have until nearly the end of tomorrow to give my presentation.” 

“Really? I would have thought waiting around for your turn would be awful.” 

Sigrid shrugged. “It’s better to see other people go up first. Examples are always helpful.” She looked around the room, watching everyone file in from Gondor, Rohan, the Shire, Erebor. “For instance,” she added letting a bit of poison seep into her tone, “I’m very interested in what the prince from Erebor has to say this morning.”

Bard raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

She watched Fíli arrive at his seat several rows down from her, set his briefcase on his chair and remove a folio, pens, highlighters, and a cell phone, placing them in neat little rows behind the microphone. Even after he sat down he adjusted each item slightly, and only when he seemed properly convinced of his orderliness did he open the folio and begin shuffling through the provided materials. 

Sigrid huffed a laugh. “Aye. Met him last night, when I was out with Tauriel. He holds the event in rather high esteem, and seems a bit put out that I’ve been invited to speak. I’m looking forward to seeing where he sets the bar, is all.”

Bard just shrugged, a perfect imitation of her earlier action. “You’ll have no problem stepping over it. I’m not worried, and you shouldn’t be either.”

This time when Sigrid glanced down at the brusque dwarf, she found he was already looking at her. She held his gaze for a moment, eyebrows raised, but his expression was unreadable. Only when she tossed him a sarcastic wave of her fingers did he jolt into action, swinging his seat back around to face forward, pretending that nothing had happened. She rolled her eyes and picked up her headphones. She was here to work, not worry about stuffy dwarves in bespoke suits.

There was no break scheduled between the opening remarks at 8:30 and lunchtime at noon, which on the face of it didn’t seem too bad. However Sigrid was quickly finding that just because one was given time to speak at the Rivendell Council did not mean that one was a gifted orator, and her boredom was making her hungry. Her stomach growled, and she coughed to cover it up. Damn. She would have to start sneaking food out of the dining hall if she were going to stand a chance through the rest of the week. Her hunger was distracting, twisting and gnawing at her, making it even more difficult to pay attention even if she had wanted to. She tried to stuff it down, ignore it, like she had when she was young. It was no use. She would have to go out in the hall, get a drink of water, do something to distract her properly.

She took off her headphones, and the smooth tones of Sindarin washed over her. The tall lady elf with blonde hair was giving some address about troubles in the south, but just as Sigrid made to stand up, applause rang throughout the hall. She looked back down to the podium and Lord Elrond approached the microphone to introduce Prince Fíli in Westron. Well, she could hardly judge him if she didn’t stick around to listen to his speech. So she settled back into her chair and picked up a pen while an assistant brought in a small step to raise Fíli to an appropriate height behind the microphone. She had her earphones halfway up before he started talking, but his words cut the motion short. He was choosing to speak in Westron.

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Distinguished Guests,” he began, voice deep and serious. “I am delighted to stand before you today to discuss the future of Erebor’s biggest industry: mining.” He didn’t sound delighted. He sounded like he had practiced his speech a million times before and had grown bored with it. The longer he spoke, the more convinced Sigrid was that someone had coached him on which words to emphasize, where to gesture or pause. 

Yet despite that, Sigrid was having no difficulty paying attention. In fact, she was taking notes. Erebor was planning a massive expansion of their operations, deeper under the mountain than they’d ever gone before. It was going to bring hundreds of new jobs, and not just for dwarves. Sigrid could already imagine more than just the spare Dale man traveling across the border for a chance at one of the good-paying jobs Fíli was talking about. It wasn’t a bad option, especially considering how Dale was still floundering in certain neighborhoods. 

As Fíli went on, a certain slide caught her eye. He’d prepared a diagram of the proposed facility, and right there, right at the bottom, was a giant pump over Erebor’s section of the River Running. According to the blue arrows, it looked like the factory was going to pull water up to run through the process machinery, then spit it back out into the river. But was the water going to touch the minerals? Would it be warm? Cold? How was this going to affect Dale and the tiny villages that lived downstream? 

Sigrid listened intently then, but Fíli moved right along to timeline, applications of mining product, and his conclusion. When he asked if there were any questions, she scoffed. “Yeah, I have a question,” she muttered. “Where are your environmental controls? How are you going to make sure you don’t screw us over down the river?”

Bard tapped the little switch on her nameplate that would turn the light from blue to red. “Well, go on and ask him, then.”

Fíli called on someone else and Sigrid blanched. “Are you serious?” she hissed. “I can’t do that!” 

“You can and you should,” he answered, and flipped the switch for her. “You belong here just as much as he does. Prove it to him.”

“Shit, Da!” she gasped, but it was too late. 

“Yes, up there in the back. Uh–” Fíli checked the diagram on the podium; it was too far for him to see who she was, but when he found her on the seating chart, his face smoothed into statuesque calm. “Princess Sigrid.”

She gulped. Well, no turning back now. Saying that she’d only accidentally turned on her light would be ten times more embarrassing than following through, and her da’s smirk confirmed that he knew it, too. “I, ah–” she cleared her throat, then leaned forward into the microphone. 

“H-hi, yes. Um. Thank you. Ah–” She paused and looked to Bard one last time.

“Yes?” Fíli prompted a little too quickly. 

Well he didn’t have to be an ass about it. Her face grew hot as embarrassment and anger swelled. “Prince Fíli,” Sigrid began again, wishing away the waver in her voice. “On the slide you presented containing the diagram of the facility, and the process flow?” Fíli frowned and started flicking back in his slides, but she pressed on. “It appears that you plan to harness water from the River Running as part of your refining process. Am I understanding that correctly?”

He found the correct slide, peered at it for a moment, and then nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.” He looked back to the assembly, dismissing her as he scanned back and forth for another question.

“Sorry, excuse me, Prince Fíli, that wasn’t my actual question.” He jerked his gaze back up to her, eyebrow arched impatiently, thumb tapping absently on the podium. She couldn’t let it fluster her, not while the whole world was watching.

“It’s just that the River Running goes down from Erebor, through Dale and down to Esgaroth. Then it picks up Redwater and–” Fíli’s neutral expression was quickly souring into bored exasperation. Perhaps he’d forgotten the cameras on him, projecting his face ten feet high on either side of the podium.

Sigrid continued, finally finding that steely edge to her tone that her ma had always used whenever she was mad at Da. “Well, I don’t mean to give a geography lesson, I just want to know what kind of environmental controls you’ll have in place to ensure that your mining operation doesn’t affect local ecology. Is there room in your admittedly sizeable budget for environmental remediation? Dale, Mirkwood, hundreds of tiny villages downstream all rely on the river for their livelihoods.” She paused once more, this time for emphasis rather than anxiety. “I was just wondering if you could speak to that for a moment.”

Prince Fíli stood stock still behind the podium; even his constant thumb-tapping had ceased. His eyes were wide, and when he looked down to his notes it was several seconds before he looked up again. “I– That is to say, we... “ He shuffled his papers around, and Sigrid almost felt bad for having spoken up. He was completely caught off-guard by her question.

She leaned forward again to the microphone, ready to let him off the hook, but he cut her off first. “Erebor is committed to, uh, to being conscientious global citizens. We are still a ways out from implementation, so we’ll look forward to working with,” he paused ever so slightly, as if he didn’t quite want to say the word, “Dale, and other stakeholders, as we start to tap into those natural resources. But no, I can’t speak to that at this time. Any other questions?”

Blessedly there were none, and after Fíli thanked the assembly, the applause drowned out the smack as he slapped his folio shut and descended the extra step behind the podium, wiping his brow with the back of his wrist. He nodded to Elrond, shook his hand just long enough to be polite, and out of the auditorium as fast as his legs would take him. 

“Well that went well,” Sigrid murmured as she flicked her light back off. 

“Aye, looks like you really rattled him.”

Elrond dismissed everyone for lunch, and as the assembly rose in a swell of chatter, Sigrid lowered her head to the desk. “I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to like, participate? I don’t know.”

“Hush now,” Bard said, placing a hand on her back. “It was a good question, it was not out of line. Don’t you beat yourself up that he wasn’t prepared for it. Now come on, I’ve had to listen to your stomach growl for the past hour and a half. It’s time you did something about it.”

They trailed behind everyone else on their way out of the room, taking their time to look at the art on the walls on their way to the dining room. The lunch was being served from two long buffet tables laden with fruit, vegetables, and what had to be five different types of sandwiches. A much-reduced serving staff came around with beverage refills or cleared plates, but it was a significantly more casual affair than the dinner the night before. 

That was just fine with Sigrid, who ate two whole sandwiches and tucked an apple into her bag for later. She was not going to get caught hungry this afternoon, no matter what. Most of the other attendees were milling around, socializing or networking or whatever it was called when the participants were in charge of entire nations. But Sigrid was too tired to join in. She sat at a table near the door, flipping through her council materials and answering the text messages she’d missed during the morning session.

_**TillyBilly:** hey jerk_

_**TillyBilly:** hows the tiny food?_

_**Sigrid:** Normal sized for lunch today. I guess they know they have to feed us if we’re supposed to run the world_

_**TillyBilly:** nice._

_**TillyBilly:** bring me back a souvenir u nerd_

Sigrid smiled. Her sister hated getting left behind; it really would be the least she could do to bring her back something from Rivendell.

_**TillyBilly:** Is Legolas there? ;) ;) ;) jkjk that woudl be weird_

_**Sigrid:** Shut up. also yes. everyone is here thats kind of the point_

_**TillyBilly:** im not there :(_

_**Sigrid:** I know. It would be more fun if you were here. i made hrh Fíli mad i think but he started it =\ politics is hard_

_**TillyBilly:** booooo._

_**Sigrid:** I know. tell you all abt it when i get home. Xoxo_

Sigrid bunched up the napkin in her lap and tossed it on the table, then gathered her things and left the dining room in search for a restroom. She had a little bit of time before she was due back in the auditorium, and this afternoon there were several addresses that she had circled and starred in the schedule of events. There was a lot to learn, that was for sure, so she wanted to be ready for it. 

Da had asked her to have dinner with only him that evening at some off-site restaurant that had come highly recommended, and that was just fine, but she couldn’t stay out too late because she really wanted to be rested and ready to present. It would make her feel a lot better if she could run through it one last time in her hotel room, just to make sure the speech was a good length. She didn’t _want_ to cut anything, but if she had to, she had to. She was still thinking about it as she rounded the corner to the hallway she was reasonably sure contained the bathrooms, but her progress was cut short as she smacked into a wall of muscle and beard.

“Oh, shit!” she gasped, juggling her phone and notebook for a moment before they both fell to the floor at her feet. “Damn. Sorry, I shouldn’t– I wasn’t– Oh! Hi.”

Prince Fíli stood in front of her, an expression on his face that could have been annoyance or pain, or even neither, Sigrid couldn’t tell. “Hello.”

Sigrid flashed an apologetic smile and did her best to squat down and retrieve her things without showing the entire RC what color panties she’d put on that morning. Pencil skirt and heels may look great standing up, but she was seriously starting to question her choices as she teetered back and forth unsteadily. “I’m so sorry about that,” she said, reaching for her phone. “Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Fíli watched her for a moment as she tried to get her things arranged so she could stand up again. To Sigrid, it felt like ages. She was too far away from the wall to brace herself against it, and she could feel the strain of her skirt across her bottom as she tried and failed to get her center of gravity, well, more centered. Finally he seemed to break out of his daze and reached out a hand. 

She gratefully took his hand and he hauled her up to her feet like she weighed no more than a grocery bag. They were just a bit too close, now; the smell of sandalwood soap threw her off-guard and his piercing gaze fixed her in place despite how much her brain screamed at her to put a respectable distance between them. She clutched her notebook to her chest tightly. How had she not noticed the ginger in his beard? Or that his eyes were the color of the lake before a springtime storm?

He furrowed his brow, just for a moment, then took a step back and cleared his throat. “Well. See you,” he said, and stepped past her.

“Fíli, wait!” Sigrid reached out and took his arm before she even knew what she was doing. The fabric of his blazer did little to disguise the firm muscle underneath, and she snatched her hand away before she got any other dangerous ideas. He turned back to her, puzzlement written across his features. “Sorry, Prince Fíli, I just… I also wanted to apologize for earlier.”

Fíli opened his mouth, then closed it again. Then he licked his lips and replied, “It’s fine.” He looked her in the eye for a moment, then down at the crumpled notes she grasped in her arms, then to the floor. He stuffed his hands in his pants pockets, and turned to leave again.

“I didn’t mean to throw you off like that,” Sigrid said quickly. “It was… It was just something I noticed. I certainly didn’t want to–”

“It’s fine,” Fíli repeated, like a mantra. One hand emerged from his pocket to run through his hair and rest at the back of his neck for a moment. “Environmental policies were just not in the scope of my presentation. It’s not like you could have known that,” he added, expression souring, “unless you read the notes that you were provided at the start of the day. Perhaps one of the interns missed your seat?” 

All the blood rushed out of Sigrid’s face. Had that been in the notes? Had she even looked at the notes? Surely she would have remembered–

Fíli glanced over her shoulder, then to the watch at his wrist. “Well there’s still ten minutes before the afternoon session starts,” he continued, lips pursed. “So you have time to find yourself a copy and avoid another embarrassing incident today.” And before Sigrid could say anything more, he turned and headed off in the direction of the amphitheater.

Sigrid fumed. Well there went that moment. She would never try to be nice to that dwarf again, so help her. Lips pressed together tightly, she strode down to the Ladies’ Room and once inside, spread her materials out on the cushy couch provided for waiting bags. Infuriatingly, Fíli was right. Well, half-right. There were supposed to be three pages of notes for the morning session, and she only had two. Still, it was no reason to be so rude. 

They’d had such a weird moment there in the hallway. Her stomach swooped as she recalled the deep blue color of his eyes behind those thick blonde lashes, the spicy-sweet smell of his soap, the sensation as he took her hand to pull her to her feet. Shaking her head, she firmly pushed those thoughts aside. Handsome as he may be, Prince Fíli was still an asshole, and they had a day and a half more to this conference yet to go. 

She wasn’t going to let him mess with her focus. She couldn’t. But what she could do was take her frustrated energy and pour it into schmoozing it up with the highest society Arda had to offer. Like Da always said: success is the sweetest revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	5. Show Time

The afternoon session went by without any more embarrassing question and answer debacles, Sigrid had a lovely and all-too-fancy dinner with her father that evening, and she had a much better nights’ sleep after discovering a white-noise app on her phone that would recreate water lapping at a dock all night. She woke up feeling refreshed and ready for the day, and only a little bit vindictive towards the grouchy dwarf prince of Erebor.

She was scheduled to give her speech that afternoon, so she was dressed in her sharpest skirt suit. Her hosiery made a satisfying swishing sound with every step and her heels clacked on the marble flooring in the lobby. She loved the way she moved in heels, the way she automatically stood a bit straighter, took more deliberate steps. Sigrid felt like a force of nature, beautiful and unstoppable. Today was her day. 

At breakfast, Sigrid made a concerted effort to sit apart from her da and mingle with some of the other attendees. One man sat alone at a table in the corner, his back to the door, and when Sigrid approached him he turned out to be Faramir, the younger prince of Gondor. “Do you mind?” she asked, gesturing to the seat next to him. 

“By all means,” he answered in a quiet voice, shifting his chair to the side to make more room for her. “How are you finding your first RC, Princess Sigrid?”

“It’s a… mixed bag,” Sigrid answered, picking up the carafe of coffee to pour herself some. Faramir pre-emptively slid the cream and sugar towards her and she smiled her thanks. “But I’m learning a lot, that’s safe to say.”

A server came by and Sigrid asked for some jam and toast while Faramir opted for a somewhat heartier meal of eggs and sausage. “Are you nervous?” he asked, once their plates had arrived. “Not that I would presume to comment on what people choose to eat, but that looks like a stomach-settling meal if ever there was one, and I saw that you’re up to speak this afternoon.”

Sigrid ducked her head and took a sip of coffee. “I might be. Just a little.”

“Well come, let’s take your mind off it for a while. Tell me about Lake Town. I’ll always think it a pity I never made it out there. Is Dale quite different?”

And just like that, Sigrid found her anxiety slipping away as she answered him. He was friendly in a quiet way, asking her kind questions about her life and properly listening to the answers she gave. He was more serious a person than she would normally spend much time with, but when she got him to laugh, pride swelled in Sigrid’s chest. He _saw_ her, and seemed to care about her even though they hardly knew each other. Well, Sigrid would quite like to get to know him better.

They talked about Dale, and her childhood home as well. Rather than disgust or pity, though, Faramir only showed interest at hearing about her past. He told her about Gondor, too, about growing up in the foothills of the mountains and vacationing by the sea. They bonded over sibling stories and having a single father, though neither one of them felt inclined to dig too deeply into the latter. It was nice having another human to talk to besides her father. Legolas and Tauriel were wonderful friends, and Dagní was a treasured confidante, but there were some things they just wouldn’t get. But now Sigrid felt quite sure that she had one more person on her side. The hour flew by, and when it was time to go down to the auditorium, he walked with her the whole way until they split off to their assigned seats.

“So,” Bard said as she sat down. “You seem to be getting on with Faramir, aye?”

“No,” Sigrid answered quickly. “I mean. I guess? He’s very nice.”

“A little old for you,” he added, as if commenting on the weather.

She frowned. “Only _just._ And I’m not marrying him, Da, I ate breakfast with him. For Valar’s sakes, I only met him today!”

“I know,” Bard smiled. “I’m only teasing. It’s good to see you getting on with people, though, really. You’re skilled at this.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes and opened her portfolio. “Thanks, Da. I just need to get this speech out of the way, and then we can talk all about my dating prospects.”

Bard leaned away from the desk and held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey now, I’m not trying to bother you. Don’t you worry about a thing, Sig, you’re going to do great.”

As Elrond approached the podium to welcome the assembly to its second full day, Sigrid cracked open a bottle of water and nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

This day’s proceedings were all focused primarily on social services, and Sigrid was in her element. This was the stuff she had always loved, as weird as it may be. Once she got to college and took her first economics and sociology classes, it was like a passion had been unlocked deep inside her. She started reading all the Westron-language newspapers, listened to podcasts recommended by her professors, declared her major and never looked back. So it was no surprise Sigrid spent the whole morning scribbling furiously in her notebook, determined to glean every last bit of wisdom that she could out of each address. By lunchtime she was on her third pen, shaking a cramp out of her hand as the assembly flowed out of the auditorium. 

“Come on, little duck,” Bard said, closing her folio for her. “Take your break. It’s time to eat!”

A little ways ahead of her, Faramir merged into the throng of people exiting the auditorium. When he looked back and caught her eye, he gave her a shy smile that brought her racing thoughts to a halt. A wave of warmth washed over her, and she couldn’t help but grin back at him. Even if she completely bombed this afternoon, the Rivendell Council would be a success. She had made some friends.

~*~

Sigrid stood off to the side of the stage, hidden behind a wall, vaguely listening to the person presenting. She clutched her speech between both hands, her eyes skimming the notes in the margins and the blocks of highlighting. Dagní was there, clad in black, helping to clip a battery pack onto the back of Sigrid’s waistband and handing her a microphone to hook over her ear. A small piece of tape secured the wire in place and the dwarf patted her shoulder.

“All set to go, Your Highness,” she said with a smile. “Just don’t yell into it and you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you,” Sigrid answered, absently. Dagní fell silent, standing next to Sigrid as she had for the past four years. Her quiet presence was a comfort, even as Sigrid all but wrung her hands as she waited. This was going to be great. She was going to be great, and she was going to show everyone that Dale was going to do things right the first time. Their country would survive, no matter what fate threw at them. They belonged here. _She_ belonged here.

A gentle hand at the small of her back broke her out of her reverie. “Princess Sigrid,” Lord Elrond said warmly. “I see you’re outfitted and ready to go.”

“Yes sir,” she answered, forcing a smile. 

“Very good.” Applause rang from the auditorium and Elrond stepped out onto the stage. He was thanking the previous speaker, introducing her. More polite applause, and Elrond turned to look back at her. 

With one last deep, steadying breath, Sigrid walked out onto the stage and took her place at the podium. An extra platform had been laid behind it as Elrond moved out of the way, which brought Sigrid’s five-foot frame up in line with the microphone. The lights shone in her eyes so much so that she couldn’t pick anyone out of the crowd, even if she wanted to. The room beyond the stage was dark, quiet, waiting. Everything narrowed down to the well-worn sheets of paper between her hands. She placed them down on the podium and smoothed them, buying herself one last second before she smiled, took a breath, and began. 

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Distinguished Guests, I am honored to stand before you today as a representative of Dale’s royal family, and of the Dale Committee on National Healthcare.” Sigrid’s voice was weaker than she anticipated, wavering on the first several words. Her knees were jello, quavering underneath her, and she was grateful for the podium hiding how they practically knocked together. 

“As you all well know, I was not born a princess. I grew up in Lake Town, the daughter of a seamstress and a bargeman. The city was ruled by its Master, an unchecked executive who cared nothing for the troubles of his citizens, no matter how they suffered. People worked themselves to the bone, children went to bed hungry, and all the while the Master got rich off their backs.”

The longer she spoke, the more confident and comfortable she became until her voice was steady and her legs no longer threatened to fail her entirely. “With no way to pay the doctor, people died of preventable and treatable illnesses. Even if you could find a way to pay the physicians, there often wasn’t one to be found. Everyone in the city suffered for it, and my family were no exception. That is why I have dedicated my life to creating a sustainable, national healthcare infrastructure in Dale.”

Sigrid had hit her stride. Now that she was in the flow of her speech, she barely had to look at the pages in front of her. She felt her whole body relax, the initial flood of adrenaline subsided enough that she moved around, flipping through her corresponding slides, gesturing to the appropriate points, pulling a few polite laughs here and there from the audience. Fifteen minutes flew by as she recounted all the research her committee had done, the challenges they faced, and all their plans moving forward. 

“So that is why we need your support. Our university is now producing high-quality graduates, but eight years in we simply don’t have the infrastructure, let alone the faculty, to begin a medical school or educate public health professionals. But your systems are already in place, your people are already educated, and your knowledge and experience are invaluable. Send us people, send us funds, and your investment will pay dividends.

“A healthy nation is a productive nation, and a productive nation is a powerful neighbor and ally. We are ready to be global citizens. We are eager to show you what we can do, but we are still healing, still building ourselves into something even greater than we were before. With your help, we can implement the plans I outlined this afternoon. We can create a lasting, comprehensive system so that no one has to choose between their medications and the roof over their heads. No one has to sit at home and hope that a bowl of broth and a cup of tea will get them through the night.”

Sigrid paused, swallowing down the rush of emotion that line had evoked. “With your help we can become the nation we want to be, and the neighbors you deserve. Thank you.”

She placed her hands down on the podium and took half a step back as applause washed over her. She had done it. At twenty-six years of age she had successfully prepared and delivered an address to the Rivendell Council. If only her ma could see her now. 

“Are there any questions?” Her eyes had adjusted a bit over her time behind the podium, and while she still had trouble making out faces, at least she would have the lighted placards to indicate a raised hand. A couple of people asked thoughtful questions about her research methods, another inquired into the sustainability of her committee’s proposals, and when Lord Elrond returned to the stage, Sigrid stepped down and walked off-stage with her back straight and her heart racing. She had done it. It was done. She could finally, finally relax.

Sigrid took her time handing the microphone and battery pack back to the AV crew. There was no way she would be able to focus enough to listen to the next speaker, and by the time she returned to her seat next to her da, they would be mostly done anyway. So instead she put her things back into her oversized purse, hauled it onto her shoulder, and headed out toward the bathrooms. When she emerged from the side door she was greeted by her da’s warm smile. 

“Sigrid,” he breathed, enveloping her in a giant hug. “You were amazing.”

“Thanks, Da,” she answered, voice muffled in his shoulder.

“You looked just like your Ma up there, so calm and collected and so damn smart.” There was a hitch in his voice and he swallowed thickly, then pressed a kiss into her hair. 

Footsteps sounded down the hall, and Sigrid’s ears burned. “Da–”

“All right, all right.” He kissed her forehead one last time and let go of her as Dagní approached. 

“Let’s go grab your things and get ready for dinner,” she said. “They’re wrapping up early in there.” As they started to follow her down the hall, Dagní gave Sigrid’s shoulder a soft punch. “Nice goin’ in there, Sig.”

“Thanks, Dagní.”

They returned to their rooms, and Sigrid was pleased to have the extra time to calm down and get some rest before seeing everyone again at dinner. She turned on the tv, letting some Sindarin procedural drama keep her company while she pulled off her skirt, blouse, and nylons. There was just enough time for her to get a quick nap in before she had to get all dolled up again for dinner, and she really needed it. Now that the adrenaline had worn off she was exhausted, but she needed to be at her best tonight. That was her last opportunity to kiss up to everyone, to follow up her speech with more direct and face-to-face interactions. Just one more event, and then she could sleep for a week.

~*~

If Sigrid had thought the welcome dinner was an affair, this one was an absolute spectacle. Everyone milled around, dressed to the nines with a drink in hand. If ever their glass ran dry, a server was already there with a replacement and a smile. Trays of hors d'oeuvres floated by, and the music of a string quartet sang just loudly enough to be heard over the hum of conversation. 

Sigrid and Bard had barely gotten in the door before Tauriel swept over to them. “Oh, Sigrid!” she exclaimed, kissing her on both cheeks. “You were fabulous today!”

“Oh, um. Thank you,” Sigrid said, ducking her head. “You’re so sweet.”

“No, I’m so _right,”_ Tauriel corrected. “You looked so comfortable up there, you were well-organized and passionate and professional.”

“Tauriel, please!” Sigrid’s cheeks were warm now, and she crossed an arm over her chest self-consciously. 

Tauriel just laughed. “All right, I’ll stop. But I think you’re going to have to get better at accepting compliments. I mean, it’s obvious where you get it from,” she added, smiling at Bard, who looked back at her innocently.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Tauriel,” he said smoothly. “Now if you ladies would excuse me.” 

As Bard swept himself away to go talk to someone Sigrid didn’t recognize, a server stopped next to Tauriel and Sigrid. She had really developed a taste for the stuff over the past few months, but she would have to pace herself if she were to take full advantage of the night. 

Tauriel took two, handed one to Sigrid, and clinked their glasses together. “To a job well done, and your first RC behind you.”

“Hear, hear,” Sigrid chimed, and took a tiny sip. “Thank you so much, Tauriel,” she sighed. “Honestly this would have been absolutely horrible without you. I’m so glad we met!”

“Me too. It’s nice to find someone around here who’s a little more... real?” The hint of a grimace flickered across Tauriel’s face as she said, “It’s not exactly a popular tactic used around here.”

“Well maybe we can start a trend,” Sigrid shrugged. “But it will have to start tomorrow. Tonight, I must schmooze.”

“May the Valar have mercy on your soul,” Tauriel responded, tilting her glass towards Sigrid in a final toast. 

Sigrid turned to find another conversation to join, but before she made it five steps there was a red-headed dwarf in her way, wild-haired and beaming. 

“Princess Sigrid!” he announced jovially, sticking out his hand. “Dain Ironfoot!” As she shook his hand, he continued with his booming voice. “Nice job today, kid. Really good work you’re doing up there in Dale.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, a bit overwhelmed by his gusto. “It was an honor.”

Dain patted her arm a bit more forcefully than was strictly necessary. “Good lass. Let us know if you need anything, all right, anything at all. The Iron Hills are happy to help those who help themselves.”

A flush of pride soared through her despite Dain’s conditional wording, and she smiled back at him widely. “Oh that’s so kind, thank you!” 

“My pleasure, my pleasure,” he said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find another one of those tiny sandwiches. How do they expect a dwarf to survive on food that small?” And without waiting for a response, Dain loped off towards one of the servers, his gait made slightly uneven by his prosthesis. 

“What a character,” she muttered to herself, taking another sip of her drink. Yet who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth? Dain Ironfoot was known to be a dwarf who meant what he said. If he made you an offer, he expected you to take him up on it.

Sigrid made her way across the room, taking moments with people she knew, and people she only recognized from her briefing book. Lindir’s praise was understated but sincere, a man named Éomer encouraged her to speak with his sister about setting up an exchange program for medical professionals. Even people who didn’t engage her in conversation made a point to smile at her as she passed. It was bizarre. 

“Princess Sigrid,” murmured a quiet voice at her shoulder. 

“Faramir!” Sigrid tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, then straightened her earring, all of a sudden unsure what to do with her hands. “Good evening!”

“Good evening to you as well. You spoke well this afternoon, and true. Dale is fortunate indeed to have your strength and wisdom on her side.” He stood close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but not so close as to be improper. Sigrid had to admit she enjoyed his attention. 

“Faramir, you are far too generous. I am merely doing what is necessary to provide for my people. They cared for us when we had nothing; it is only proper I should return the kindness. Besides, everyone did a fine job this week. I learned so much!”

“Indeed, this was a very productive session. I’m pleased your first experience went so well. I’m afraid I wasn’t granted such a boon.” He leaned down as if to tell a secret in her ear. “There was a bit of a tussle on the Council floor. It started with a dispute on the proper rules of order and alas, by the end no one could quite remember exactly what slight had been so egregious, only that it certainly had been, and how dare they.”

Sigrid winced sympathetically, and drained the last of her champagne. “Well now that I know that was an option, I feel much more grateful for the complete lack of any fighting at all.”

Faramir held up his own empty glass. “Another?”

“Please!” 

He took her glass and stepped away for a moment, leaving Sigrid wondering if she was reading too far into Faramir’s behavior. Once she got used to having so many eyes on her every move, she’d learned to think of others that way as well. He could just be genuinely nice, though, like Tauriel had turned out to be. Yet there was just something about how he stood beside her, the way he gently touched her elbow or hand, the way he spoke in her ear, that made her wonder if there wasn’t something more on the Prince’s mind. It was a thrilling thought.

A hand at the small of her back was her only warning as Faramir returned with a single champagne flute. “Here,” he said, smiling warmly.

“What about you?” she asked, nodding at his now-empty hands. “It’s hardly polite to drink alone.”

“You’re far from alone,” he replied easily, gesturing towards the busy room.

“Well, if you insist.” She took a sip and scanned the crowd absently. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m here,” she murmured. “I mean, this wasn’t _even_ a pipe dream for me when I was a girl.”

“It’s not that much better when you can see it coming,” Faramir said. “Trust me, if my five-year-old self could see me now, he’d scarcely believe it. I was a small, shy bookworm who was perfectly happy to sit upstairs and let the party go on without me. Boromir was always the one to whine and wheedle until our father permitted him to come. He does so love a party, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Sigrid laughed and took a small step back to re-center herself on her too-high heels. Unfortunately at the same time someone was brushing right behind her. Her ankle buckled, heel caught on the hem of her floor-length dress. Champagne sloshed out of her glass all down her arm, and she reached out to Faramir in a last-ditch effort not to fall. He caught her easily, wrapping an arm around her waist, strong and secure, but gentle. 

“Are you all right?”

“Oh my goodness, thank you,” she gasped once she had both feet underneath her. Her face was warm, partly from embarrassment at having nearly fallen off her shoes, and partly from the sudden closeness. She licked her lips and watched his blueish-grey eyes flick down to her mouth, then back to her eyes. His lips parted as if to say something, but before he could draw breath to say it, a grumble sounded behind her. She turned around to apologize again, letting her hand trail down Faramir’s arm until she was halted in her tracks. 

“Prince Fíli!” Of course. The pleasantly fuzzy feeling in her stomach turned into sinking dread as she took in his expression.

“Faramir, Sigrid, good evening,” he answered curtly. “Everyone’s quite impressed with your speech this morning, Princess. You certainly out-performed my expectations.”

“A thousand thanks, Your Highness,” she drawled, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special.”

Faramir took a half step toward Fíli. “Princess Sigrid did a fine job today, as well as any of us could have done. You can hardly fault her for your underestimations.”

Fíli looked between the two of them, then down to Faramir’s arm still curled protectively around her. Sigrid could barely believe it but he looked almost hurt. But Faramir’s comment was hardly _that_ biting. He couldn’t be… jealous? Yet just as soon as she opened her mouth to smooth things over, something snapped Fíli out of his shock and he smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “Making the most of the evening, I see.”

Sigrid blinked, absently wiping stray drops of liquid off her arm. She’d have to run to the restroom after this, lest she turn all sticky. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Forget it,” he replied in a breezy tone so forced Sigrid couldn’t stop herself from plowing forward.

“Well I’m ever so glad you found my performance acceptable, Prince Fíli,” she said, letting the acid in her heart taint her words. “But I didn’t do it to impress anyone, or prove anything. I did it because my people are suffering. They need help.”

“And you’re an expert on that then, are you? Suffering?” Fíli’s eyes traveled down her body from head to toe, but there was no sensuality or seduction to it. He was bringing her attention back to her designer dress, her shoes, the diamond-studded jewelry at her neck, hair, and wrists.

Sigrid drew back, feeling his words against her as keenly as a slap to the face. Her throat clenched violently, and she pursed her lips to stop from starting a war. She already felt like a class traitor every time she attended any sort of function. He certainly didn’t have to add to the guilt. Tears prickled threateningly, and she refused to blink lest they fall.

When she found the words to speak, they came out weak and strangled. “Well, as you said _so succinctly_ when we first met, Prince Fíli: Everyone knows the story.” 

Her words hung in the air for a moment before she turned to Faramir, who looked absolutely lost. She gave him an apologetic half-smile, and he frowned when he saw the hurt in her eyes. Before he could say anything about it, Sigrid rushed out of the ballroom as demurely and unobtrusively as possible. A few people looked at her askance, but no one said anything as she made her way through the crowd. The bathroom door closed behind her before she realized she still held the champagne flute. She tossed the contents down her throat carelessly, grimacing at the feeling of having swallowed too much bubbly liquid at once. 

Sniffing back tears, she wet a paper towel and held it to her neck, then dabbed at her eyes. She couldn’t stay away all night. Da would miss her, would probably send Tauriel after her, and the last thing she wanted was to finish her first RC sobbing in the toilets.

“Get it together, Bowman,” she muttered, and fished out her lipstick from her bra. As she painted her lips the hurt and shock subsided, replaced by steely resolve. 

She was not going to let him get to her, _again._ She was going to get more done at this assembly than in the three months preceding it. Powerful people were here, and knowledgeable ones. Some of them were even nice. Tonight was the night to drive home her point to anyone and everyone, and if His Royal Jerkface Prince Fíli had any problems with the work she was doing, then he was cordially invited to shove it up his ass. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	6. Those Flashing Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading along so far. Please note that this chapter contains discussions of Sigrid's childhood poverty and her mother's death, and as such I've added a tag for it that I'd forgotten when I posted the first chapter. It's not too graphic, and she doesn't dwell on it, but I want every reader set up for success. 
> 
> Please let me know if there's ever anything else you need tagged, either in a comment here or by sending me [an ask on tumblr.](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/ask) I'm more than happy to let you know if there's any content you might want to prepare for or avoid.

Sigrid left the Rivendell Council as quietly as she could manage, slipping out with the rest of the convoy to the airport. On the way Tauriel insisted on sharing phone numbers, and when Sigrid bid farewell to Faramir, he bashfully asked for her number as well. She had thankfully managed to avoid any and all eye contact with anyone from Erebor and escaped home with no further incident. As soon as she stepped foot into her bedroom, she changed into pajamas and vowed to stay that way for the next week. It. Was. _Glorious._

Tilda was delighted to have her older sister back for an audience, and demanded that despite having just arrived, Sigrid join her in the kitchen for a midnight snack. 

“This month’s DragonBeat has an article about Éowyn from Gondor. Did you meet her at the RC?” 

“No,” Sigrid answered, pushing her cereal around in the bowl. “Not all the royalty always go to the RC. Mostly it’s ambassadors; I was just a special guest. She was probably busy doing something else.”

“Yeah!” Tilda answered excitedly. “Like horseback riding!”

“I… suppose?” 

“No, like, that’s what she does!” She flipped through the garish magazine pages until she found the right one. “Look! She went to the _Olympics_ last year, she’s _really_ good! She does the super cool jumping events.”

Sigrid smiled. “That is cool.”

“This is a really good issue,” Tilda continued. She kicked her legs under the table, swaying back and forth contentedly. “They had a ‘What Realm of Arda Should You Live In?’ quiz. I made Bain take it and he got Dale which is boring but I got the Shire!”

“Dale isn’t boring!” Sigrid folded her arms over her chest in mock hurt. 

“Yeah. It is. But I bet if you took it you’d get some place horrible like Erebor or something.” Tilda turned pages absently, pausing only to drink the leftover milk from the bottom of her bowl. “Ooh, this one was pretty neat. ‘Six Times the Durin Brothers Made Us Swoon!’”

Despite herself a snort erupted from deep in Sigrid’s gut. “Both of them?”

“Mm-hmm! Everyone at school likes Kíli the best but they have some good pictures of Fíli in here too. Like, here’s both of them at some charity do for firefighters, and this one’s just a paparazzi picture of Kíli on the beach.”

Sigrid was fighting to keep showing interest in what Tilda had to say. It wouldn’t bother Sigrid one bit if she never saw either one of those Durins ever again. Everything that had happened was behind her now; she was only looking forward, and that meant having as little to do with Erebor’s royal family as possible.

Tilda paid no mind to Sigrid’s disinterest. Without waiting for a response, she continued, “Of course they have some official pictures of them in uniform. Both of them were in Erebor’s army. An appearance at a children’s hospital... Here, look–” She pushed the magazine over in front of Sigrid, tapping a picture. “Kíli looks _really_ good here. It’s some charity gala.” 

But what demanded Sigrid’s attention were a group of photos just under the one Tilda pointed out. In the first, Fíli was dressed in a creamy white linen suit and blue shirt and tie, crouching down to meet the eyes of some toddler that was offering a clearly slobbery toy to him. Then, Fíli took the toy, grinning and shaking the toddler’s hand as if he were an adult. Finally, Fíli had lifted the child up and placed them on his shoulders. The child’s arms were outstretched in joy as they zoomed around. Fíli’s eyes sparkled, his smile holding a warmth that Sigrid couldn’t have imagined based on the handful of times they’d interacted so far. 

She pulled the magazine even closer so she could read the finely printed caption underneath. _Crown Prince Fíli welcomes little Gimli, the son of King Thorin’s Cabinet member Glóin, to Erebor’s annual Êrâs Nar (New Year) celebration. Who doesn’t love a handsome prince who shows his softer side? We know we do!_

“–thinks that we all should go away somewhere for Yule. I don’t care, so long as I get one of the new Malenna dolls.”

“I– what?” Sigrid fought to drag her attention back to what Tilda had evidently been talking about for some time.

“Da said we are going to go on vacation at Yuletide!” Tilda repeated, exasperated. “Dagní has to figure out exactly where it is we’re going so it will be safe. But I don’t care where we are so long as we still do presents. I want a Malenna doll, you know, from the movie that’s coming out? For my collection?”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” 

All right, so Sigrid had maybe briefly forgotten about her friend Ori’s movie premiere next month. Sigrid had met Ori in university, where they’d shared a few introductory classes. When their majors took their class schedules in different directions, they’d stayed close friends as Ori worked towards his film career and Sigrid pursued more political science and sociology courses. After graduation, the demands of royal duties and a movie production’s tight schedule kept them from meeting up as often as they’d like, but when Ori was brought on board to direct a major studio’s holiday season family blockbuster, she couldn’t have been more proud. 

When he invited her to attend the premiere with him, she accepted even before she checked her schedule. Nothing was going to keep her from supporting her friend. Valar only knew how her other relationships had suffered over the past ten years or so; maintaining a friendship was hard when you couldn’t just go out for drinks whenever you felt like it. This was important.

Attending the premiere would help her too. She needed to get out of her own head. No matter what she tried, ever since the Rivendell Council she had found her thoughts constantly returning to Prince Fíli. Whenever she thought she had finally gotten over everything that happened, something else sparked a new wave of sour memories. Seeing Fíli looking so soft and comfortable in Tilly’s magazine puzzled her all over again. Those images just didn’t jive with the man she remembered. Nothing added up: Tauriel’s high opinion of him, the unimpressed look on his face when they’d been introduced, the surprise when she had questioned him at his presentation, the charged moment they’d shared in the corridor by the bathrooms as the heat of his nearness washed over her…

She _really_ needed a distraction. 

Going to see a movie with her best college friend would be just the thing. However, when the day of the premiere finally came, it sure didn’t feel like it. Sigrid was surrounded by people as soon as she woke up. Tilda never left her side, faithfully assisting the hairdressers and makeup artists, and fetching everything from snacks to the rented jewelry Sigrid would wear. Bain popped in whenever he felt like it, providing his patented brand of dry commentary. Bard would stop by but immediately realize he could not be of help, and awkwardly excuse himself. Finally each hair was in place, her lips painted perfectly, the aestheticians departed and she was zipped into her dress for good. 

“All this for a movie,” she whispered.

“Princess Sigrid?” Dagní rapped her knuckles on the door frame, smiling when Sigrid looked her way. “Are you ready to go? Ori has arrived and the car’s waiting for you out front.”

Tilda squealed. “Ori’s here?! Why didn’t you _tell_ us? I love him, it’s been ages!” She hopped down off of Sigrid’s bed and rushed out into the hallway and down the stairs. 

Sigrid in her high heels was significantly slower. “Thank you, Dagní. Is there anything I need to know before I go?” 

“No,” she answered, ushering Sigrid out of her room and towards the door. “We’ll have a handful of plain-clothes agents scattered around, including in the theater while the movie plays. But overall we’re content with the level of security at the event.”

“Good.” Sigrid hiked her skirt up as she descended the stairs carefully. “I probably don’t say it enough, but thank you.”

“It’s an honor,” Dagní answered automatically, but when Sigrid glanced back at her she was still smiling. 

Ori, Bain and Tilda were chatting animatedly in the foyer. Of course they missed him too; back in the day, Sigrid and Ori had been so inseparable they’d earned Sigrid her first appearance in DragonBeat. _Could this Dwarf be Princess Sigrid’s First Love?_ Ah, how far they’d come.

“We wanted to come too, _so bad._ But Da said you only got one extra ticket!”

“Unfortunately Tilda, it’s true. Maybe next time.” Ori smiled up at Sigrid, who had paused on the steps to watch the tableau. “Well well well, if it isn't Siggy Stardust. We clean up pretty good, don’t we?”

Sigrid grinned back at him. “You best get that out of your system this instant, Ori Schreiber, and address me as I’m due, or you’ll cause a scandal and I’ll have no choice but to order your head cut off.”

“Far be it from me, Your Royal Highness, to cause any such scene.”

The two of them stood still for a moment, smiling, drinking each other in before the moment broke and Sigrid hurried down the stairs to meet Ori, his arms wide open. “Hey kiddo,” he murmured, holding her tightly.

“I’m taller than you.” The familiar refrain crossed her lips before Sigrid even had a chance to think about it.

“And I’m older than you,” he replied just as easily. “Now c’mon. Let’s go cause some gossip.”

They broke apart and Bain gave them a little wave. “Have fun. Play nice. Bring me home a swag bag.”

“Me too!” Tilda added. “Malenna is my _favorite.”_

“We know, Tilly,” Sigrid sighed.

“Everyone knows,” Bard added, appearing from the kitchen. “Sigrid, you look amazing.”

“Thanks, Da,” she murmured.

“Dagní told me she’s taken care of everything, but I still want you two to be careful, all right?” Bard’s soft expression hardened as he continued giving his orders. “Keep an eye out for any funny business, don’t take drinks from random people, and don’t, under any circumstances, try to go anywhere that Dagní hasn’t already cleared.”

“C’mon, Da, this isn’t prom. I’m an adult for Valar’s sakes, I’m not going to do anything stupid.” Sigrid shifted uneasily, feeling despite her proclamation like she was back in high school.

“I promise Your Majesty that I have only the most honorable intentions with your daughter.” 

Ori’s cheeky delivery earned him a guffaw from Bain and the crack of a smile from Bard. “I know, Ori. Have fun tonight, yeah? And br–”

“–Bring you a swag bag, yeah.” Sigrid rolled her eyes. “We got it. _Goodbye,_ everyone.”

Ori and Sigrid climbed into the limo, chatting excitedly about everything that had happened since they last saw each other. The ride to the theater went quickly, and before they knew it, their car was in the queue for the carpet. 

“All right, so, one last thing,” Ori said nervously. “I don’t know if Dagní told you, but in order to keep everything under control security-wise, we didn’t have your name on the official guest list. They used some fake name as a placeholder, but as soon as you step out of the limousine everyone is going to know. I’ll go out first, then help you out of the car–”

“Oh how very chivalrous of you,” Sigrid teased gently as the car inched forward in line.

“–And then,” Ori added pointedly, “we’ll go on in. Now I’m expected to give a bunch of interviews, stop for pictures, that sort of thing, but don’t feel obligated to give any interviews if you don’t want to. Obviously you won’t be able to stop them taking pictures, but…”

“Ori, please.” She gestured widely to herself. “I’m prepared.”

The limo finally stopped and the driver got out to open their door. “Good,” Ori grinned, and stepped out into a barrage of flashing lights and yelling paparazzi. Sigrid watched through the tinted windows as he turned, smiling and occasionally holding his hand up in greeting. 

A swell of pride bubbled up within her as she waited for the clicks of cameras to die down. He had poured the last four years of his life into this film, same as she had with her policy work. He deserved to revel in his success for a moment. Before long though, he reached his hand back into the car. She gathered her skirt up and took his hand, climbing out carefully so as not to snag her hem or twist her ankle. As she righted herself and took Ori’s arm there was a brief pause in the chatter and shutter snapping as the assembled press tried to recognize her. Then, all in a rush, the shouting and clicking and flashing began again with renewed vigor. Sigrid smiled placidly at all of them, rotating slowly so everyone had a chance at her front and profile before they headed on.

There were a series of press stops Sigrid could see between her and the front door, set up with standing lights and a copse of camera operators. “I’m going to need to stop at every one,” Ori murmured. “Feel free to ditch me at any time.” Yet the nearest producer on-site waved both of them over, ordering into his headset that the reporter wrap up with the actor she was currently interviewing.

As soon as the space was clear, Sigrid was all but pushed in front of the cameras. A spike of adrenaline set her heart racing, and she only caught a glimpse of a burly security officer before the lights made it impossible to see anything. 

“Right here, there you go, right on that X,” the reporter chirped, and Sigrid’s body obeyed before she had the chance to think about it. The camera operators shifted around, compensating for their size difference in an attempt to get everyone well in frame. “Wonderful, wonderful,” the reporter sang once everyone was in place. “Thank you, your, uh. Your royal highness. Now then, Ori Schreiber.”

“Hello,” Ori sang.

“Lobelia Sackville, Lifestyle Editor for _Shire Weekly_. This is your first time directing a major motion picture, your first time walking the red carpet, and you get Arda’s Most Eligible Bachelorette as your date! How did you end up so lucky?”

Sigrid blinked and looked down at Ori. Most eligible bachelorette? Luckily, Ori seemed prepared for the question. 

“Well I can’t say that luck hasn’t played a part in it. I’m very grateful to Mithril Studios for giving me the chance to share my dream with the world, and I’m very grateful to my good friend Princess Sigrid for accompanying me today.”

Lobelia’s smile was unmoving as she nodded and turned to Sigrid. “So tell me, Princess Sigrid, how did you and Mr. Schreiber meet?”

When the foam-covered microphone was thrust in front of her face, it was all Sigrid could do to remember the story herself. “Well, we met in university. We ended up in the same Biology 101 class, and were seated at the same lab bench. I knocked over a bottle of bright pink staining solution onto Ori’s textbook. In his rush to clean it up, he spilled a whole bottle of water all over our bench and the floor… All of our things were ruined, but we’d made a good friend out of it. I guess you could say the rest is history.” 

“We’ve seen the two of you together quite a lot back in your college days,” Lobelia pressed. “We’re all pleased to see you back together again. But you’re saying there are no royal wedding bells in Dale’s future?” 

Sigrid and Ori looked at each other for a moment before they both bust out laughing. “No, no,” she sighed, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. “I’m just out here supporting my very good friend.”

Finally satisfied, Lobelia continued with her pre-planned line of questioning for Ori, only releasing the two of them after making sure to ask who was wearing whom. The whole red carpet area was much smaller than Sigrid anticipated, which was at the same time a blessing and a curse. A wall of cameras stood in front of a long backdrop plastered with the name of the movie and more names of sponsors, which was where the majority of actors and otherwise famous people were pausing to pose. There were a surprising number of regular people just standing behind the barricades, filming or taking pictures with their cell phones while they shouted and begged for the actors' attention. 

“You didn’t tell me there would be quite so much screaming,” Sigrid said, bending down to shout in Ori’s ear just to be heard. 

“No?” He grinned his typical cheeky grin and placed his arm around her waist, guiding her in front of the backdrop to let the paparazzi get their pictures. 

As the two of them stood, smiling, Sigrid took the opportunity to look around a bit more. It was still difficult to discern much, and there was another gauntlet of reporters to run through before they reached the doors of the theater. No wonder they had to arrive so early. All around her, journalists and gossip-mongers interviewed the premiere’s attendees, and before long Sigrid was pulled aside by a few celebrities just to say hello. Overall the atmosphere was laidback and fun, and Sigrid found herself in the previously-unimaginable situation of taking selfies with the boy band her sister idolized. 

“Thank you, thanks a lot,” she gushed, clutching her phone tightly. “My sister will be so jealous.” Sigrid turned to find Ori again but instead found herself staring into the eyes of none other than Crown Prince Fíli of Erebor. 

“You’re here,” he said, incredulous.

“You’re here,” she echoed, confused. “Why?” By the Valar, would she never be rid of him? 

Fíli turned away from the cameras and rolled his eyes. “The only reason I’m attending this… spectacle… is to support my cousin. Under normal circumstances I find the idea of a member of the royal family attending a film premiere utterly inappropriate.” He pulled at his cuff-links, pursing his lips and looking out of the corner of his eye at the press behind him.

Sigrid’s brow furrowed as she glared down at him, silently thanking the gods for four-inch heels. “Well. It should soothe your mind to know that I, too, am here to support a dear friend of mine. Not for shits and giggles. Though I might go to another one someday,” she mused. “Pretty dresses are fun, and there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun sometimes, Prince Fíli, believe it or not.”

Fíli raised his face to her again, looking somewhat constipated. He took a breath, but it was a long moment before he used it to speak. “Well. Tell your friend I wish them well.”

If Sigrid didn’t know any better, she might have thought he meant it. “Thank you, I will.”

As they turned to go their separate ways, Sigrid wondered if Fíli was actually learning not to be such an utter asshole, or if she’d just caught him on a good moment. Before she could get too deep inside her head, though, a tall human reporter caught her attention, and she recognized her from one of Dale’s morning shows. A quick glance back to Ori confirmed he was still deep in the throes of his own interviews, and Sigrid trusted her to ask at least a _few_ questions that weren’t about her love life, so she smiled and walked over to yet another mark on the floor. 

“Princess Sigrid, hello! Kathlynne Raesman with _Good Morning Dale_. How are you doing this afternoon?”

“Hi Kathlynne,” Sigrid answered. “I’m having so much fun today, it’s great. How are you?”

“Well to be honest, Your Highness, I’m rather surprised to see you here today. And as Ori Schreiber’s date, no less.”

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Sigrid recounted the story again as Kathlynne smiled and nodded along. “So I’m just here to support my good friend and see what I’m sure will be a fantastic movie.”

“That’s wonderful. Now, I just got done speaking with His Highness Prince Legolas of Mirkwood–”

“Legolas is here?” Sigrid gasped. “He didn’t tell me he was coming, what a jerk!”

“Oh, so you two are… close?” Kathlynne leaned closer with a rather sharkish smile.

Sigrid’s eyes widened, just for a moment as she tried to find a way to subtly backtrack. “Oh, well, I’ve just been very fortunate that when we were visiting Mirkwood a few months ago for the state dinner there, Prince Legolas offered to help me out, you know, sort of mentor me as I get used to the very public life of being a princess. There are sort of, you know, best practices, you see? So he has been a really great friend to me these past few months, just a life-saver.”

“You accompanied him to the fundraiser for his mother’s art foundation.” 

How that woman managed to make a statement sound like a question was a work of art. “I did,” Sigrid answered. “It was a lot of fun, getting to view and celebrate local art. I can’t speak highly enough about the work the Ellenath Foundation is doing.” She fell silent, unsure what else she could say that wouldn’t seem like a defensive over-protest. 

Kathlynne seemed to sense her discomfort and spoke up. “It seems we have an unusually high number of royals at today’s event. You’re here, I just saw Prince Legolas, and a source tells me Prince Fíli will be coming by as well.” She eyed Sigrid, pointedly looking for a reaction.

“Fancy that. Well, Ori is from Erebor originally.” Sigrid smiled thinly, unwilling to let another word about the Durins make it onto the record.

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any further down that line of questioning, Kathlynne just smiled a bit wider and added, “Let’s switch gears to something a little more serious then. Last month you and King Bard attended a meeting of the Rivendell Council.”

“Yes!” Sigrid brightened immediately. “Yes, we did.”

“And you gave an impassioned speech about the need for healthcare reform in Dale. Could you tell us why you’ve chosen this as your cause to champion?”

“Absolutely! Yes, thank you for asking.” Sigrid gave a sigh of relief. Finally something worth talking about. “It’s been my life’s dream to make healthcare affordable and accessible for regular citizens.”

“Certainly you aren’t a regular citizen, though,” Kathlynne prompted.

Sigrid took the cue to laugh at herself. “Ah, perhaps not. But I haven’t always been a princess of course! My family knows what it’s like for the system to fail you. We can never forget it.” She swallowed, looking to the floor for a moment to collect herself. But the microphone was still in her face, so she cleared her throat and finished the story.

“When I was twelve years old, my ma went into labor with my sister, Tilda. Throughout her whole pregnancy Ma never went to see a doctor. She always said it was because she’d already done it twice, she knew what she was doing. But now I know that it was because we couldn’t afford it. She gave birth to Tilda in the living room, and the next day she had a fever. We tried everything we could think of to get her temperature down, but by the following day she was too weak to feed the baby. I begged her and Da to go to the hospital, and they finally went while I stayed home to watch Bain and Tilda.”

Sigrid paused, looking up into the bright can-lights to chase away the threatening tears. Her throat clenched painfully and she had to swallow a few times to get her voice back. “I, uh… They waited in Emergency for five hours, and when they finally saw a doctor he wanted to admit her for a full round of tests and overnight observation. But we couldn’t afford it. The emergency fee was bad enough, and…” She shook her head. “Anyway, Ma and Da came home, and Ma went to bed with an aspirin and a cold compress. She died the next morning because of a blood clot, too big for her to pass on her own.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kathlynne murmured.

“It was tragic, and it was avoidable, if only we would have been able to afford proper care in the first place. So that’s why I’m working so hard to get our infrastructure fixed: I don’t want my mother’s death to be in vain. I don’t want another child to grow up without a parent. No one should have to go through what we went through.” Sigrid smiled slightly, adding, “It’s why I’m so grateful to Lord Elrond for giving me an opportunity to bring these issues to the attention of the greater global community. It’s going to take a lot of work, but I know that if we all pitch in we can make sure that no one gets left behind again.”

Behind the camera, a man was gesturing to them to wrap it up. Kathlynne beamed at the camera, then at Sigrid. “Well thank you so much, Your Highness, for your hard work in public service, and for speaking with us tonight!”

“My pleasure, thanks so much.”

Sigrid stepped out of Dale Today’s little section of carpet and looked towards the theater to see if Ori had gotten ahead of her. Unable to pick him out among the crowd near the door, she turned around and found herself looking, yet again, at Prince Fíli. 

He was only a few feet away, staring at her, evidently having just finished an interview of his own. Had he been listening to her speak with Ms. Raesmann? He looked pained, brow furrowed as if he wanted to say something to her, but the second he opened his mouth to do so she turned away, rushing as quickly as she could through the throngs of people toward the door of the theater. 

Fíli wasn’t even supposed to be here. This was supposed to be a nice evening with a good friend. The only drama was supposed to happen on screen! Well apparently Sigrid couldn’t rely on “supposed to.” She gave one last wave to the fans assembled behind the barricades and entered the theater, slumping the second she was out of sight of cameras. What an absolute circus. 

There was a secret service agent by the door, and another a few yards off. If she knew Dagní at all, there were at least four more she didn’t recognize milling about in the lobby or finding a spot in the actual theater. Dagní herself would probably be up in the projection room, keeping an eye on everything from above. It was at once reassuring and completely alienating. She pulled out her phone and brought up Faramir’s number. 

_**Sigrid:** send help i’m sewn into my dress and can’t find a bathroom at this dumb movie premiere_

_**DoReMiFa:** haha So you got to go see Malenna then?_

_**Sigrid:** Me and every other royal this side of the Anduin! Legolas, Fíli and me all are here. _

_**Sigrid:** this is the most secure event in the entire world i swear 3 countries worth of secret service i mean damn_

_**DoReMiFa:** It’s good you’re safe though. Have fun at the movie okay? I can’t wait to hear what you thought._

She stared at the message until her screen went dark. Faramir was right, she would be fine. She was safe. Nevertheless she jumped when she felt a hand at her elbow. “Princess Sigrid.”

“Gods _damn it–_ Oh! Prince Fíli.” She clutched her phone tightly to her chest, heart pounding all over again. He looked absolutely stunning, damn him. His dark blue suit only served to emphasize the lightness in his eyes and the streaks of ginger in his hair. Not to mention it was tailored so well she didn’t have to imagine the strength in his shoulders and arms. But that was a dangerous road for her thoughts to go down, so she shoved them aside and said flatly, “It’s you. Again.” 

“Yes, I…” He grimaced, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Can I… help you?,” Sigrid supplied weakly.

“No, I–” Fíli paused again, stuffing his hands in his pockets while his thoughts flitted across his face in an unusually open display. He pursed his lips, scrunched up his brow, opened and closed his mouth, obviously working himself up to say something. It would be adorable if it weren’t so ominous. Sigrid steeled herself, grip on her phone unrelenting as she waited for him to spit it out. Finally he took one last deep breath and started again. “Sigrid, I wanted to tell y–”

“Fíli!” Ori sang, coming up behind both of them to embrace them warmly. “I’m so glad you made it after all.”

Startled though he was, Fíli recovered mightily, clapping a hand over Ori's in a familiar gesture. “Cousin! As if I would miss your grand premiere.”

“ _This_ is your cousin, Fíli?” Sigrid stared, frozen in place by her incredulity and Ori’s one-armed hug.

“Aye, we’re something like second-cousins,” Ori confirmed. “Didn’t I ever tell you?”

“No, you hadn’t.”

“Must not have come up,” he chirped happily as he released them. “Sort of grew up together, he and I.”

“And you never told me you knew Princess Sigrid,” Fíli added, voice weakened with his own bewilderment.

Ori frowned. “Surely that can’t be true? We were thick as thieves in uni. Well, back at that time you and I didn’t see each other much, too busy with school and royal duties… Maybe that could have something to do with it.”

“Maybe.”

A silence fell between the three of them, Sigrid and Fíli avoiding each other’s gaze. Ori didn’t seem phased, however, just went on excitedly. “So you know each other then? That’s great, Sig. I always thought it was a shame I never got the chance to introduce my best friend to my favorite cousin. I suppose you’d have to meet eventually, what with both being heirs to thrones and whatnot. Anyway, I knew you’d get along famously, you’re both so kind and generous.”

Fíli kind? _Generous?_ Well, maybe to his own kin. Sigrid’s mind raced looking for something to say, but Fíli beat her to it.

“Yes, I had the pleasure of making Princess Sigrid’s acquaintance at the Rivendell Council last month.” Fíli’s speech was stiff, but a small smile still crossed his lips. 

Sigrid might have missed it if she hadn’t been so shocked by Fíli declaring their meeting a pleasure, rather than an utter disaster. “Fíli spoke quite well at the RC,” she supplied a moment too late, using the excuse of putting her phone in her clutch to avoid meeting his eyes. “I found his presentation quite interesting.”

“A fact that took me by no small surprise,” Fíli added. Yet the tone he used was so even, Sigrid couldn’t tell if he was poking fun at himself or at her. He stood with his hands clasped in front of him, face once again a bland smiling mask. 

Sigrid found herself again dearly wishing she could rip the mask off and find out what he was really thinking. But instead, Sigrid just put on her own and suggested, “Why don’t we go in, hm? Find our seats, see if we can’t get someone to bring us a snack. What do you say, Ori?”

“Yeah, that sounds good," Ori answered, peering between the two of them as if parsing out some secret about them that Sigrid would never tell. "I’ll see you later, right Fí? Enjoy the show!”

“I’m sure I will.” 

She took Ori’s arm as they had on the red carpet and steered him away towards the actual theater. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but wisely said nothing, instead introducing her to the various people that approached him along the way. By the time they reached their seats, there was hardly any time at all before Ori, the producers, and the cast were called to the front to say a few words and accept a bit of applause. As the lights went down, Sigrid finally felt herself relax down into the plush chair. She was finally free to just be herself and enjoy the film. No more reporters, no more cameras, and best of all: no more confusing princes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading this chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	7. Dinner, Dancing, and Etc: Take Two

“Oh _come on,_ how come I don’t ever get any blue shells?”

“Because you’re always in first place!”

Bain groaned as his character slipped on a banana peel and spun out into the grass. “Damn it, Sig! Maybe I don’t want you around after all. You’re ruining my record. I’ll never– Yep. There you go. Shit.” 

Sigrid looked up to the long wall of their rec room, which they’d had painted into a chalk-board. Among the various drawings and notes scribbled everywhere, three columns denoted each sibling’s win record. “Sorry, bro. Ever since Da put me in charge of all this stuff for the Erebor state dinner, I’m around a lot more to practice. Soon your reign of terror will be over.”

He snorted as he begrudgingly got out of his chair and added one more tally to Sigrid’s column. “Sometimes I want to be done with school and help you and Da out with like, official business and stuff, but then I think ‘Nah. Better not.’ After all, then my life would be as busy as yours. Then when would I play video games?”

Sigrid groaned, leaning back onto the couch. “I mean, you’ll have to do stuff eventually, but I swear these have been the most boring meetings I’ve ever gone to. Everything has to be discussed to death, including like, tablecloths and window dressings. Should we have eight-person tables or ten-person tables? Where will So-and-So sit, or the other person? Should the meatballs be made of beef or turkey? And all of that, _all of that_ by committee.”

“So why did you agree to do it?”

“Even when you’re a princess yourself, you still don’t tell the King ‘No.’”

“Well, when you’re Queen you won’t catch me doing any party planning,” Bain warned, stretching out his cramped fingers.

“No, I don’t suppose I will.” 

The two siblings sat in silence for a while, flicking through the various courses they had to choose from, until Tilda came thundering down the stairs and into the room. “Siggy! You’re in my magazine today!” 

Sigrid frowned. “Which magazine?” 

“ _Arda Today_ , look!” And sure enough, in the corner of the front page was a picture of her and Ori right after she’d gotten out of the limousine. “You’re on the front but then they’ve got a bigger one in here!”

“Oh boy,” Sigrid breathed as Tilda found the page she wanted. “Why do you even buy these?”

“There’s a whole article,” Tilda gushed, completely ignoring her sister’s question. “All about you and your work, the RC speech, everything.”

“Really..?” Sigrid took the magazine from her and skimmed the article. Apparently _Arda Today_ had found a way to pick up her conversation with _Good Morning Dale_. She had carefully avoided watching the television until she was sure she wouldn’t have to watch any of her own interviews. Of course, with Tilly’s fascination with celebrity culture she wasn’t going to be able to avoid it completely. At least _Arda Today_ was enchanted by her activism. There she was, looking a little warm but very passionate, photographed in the middle of saying some word. Well, it wasn’t the worst picture of her that had ever been published. At least her lipstick hadn’t smudged. 

“You’re in one of the bigger spreads too, in the middle, of all the ladies in their different dresses. I wish they’d do more with the guys, but I guess there’s only so many different colors of tuxedos.” Tilda took the magazine back to show Bain and Sigrid what she meant. “Ori looked very handsome, and so did Prince Legolas. Everyone still thinks you’re dating him, by the way.”

Bain failed to hide his chuckle, and Sigrid flopped sideways across the couch. “Why?” she moaned. “I didn’t even see him that night. I was either with Ori or alone!” 

“Yeah,” Tilda nodded sagely. “They say you aren’t dating Ori ‘cuz he’s just a regular guy.”

“What?”

“Y’know, not royalty.”

“Seriously, Tilly?” Bain sat up straight now, scowling.

“I’m just telling you what they said.”

Sigrid scoffed. “Joke’s on them. Apparently Ori is a teensy bit royal after all.” Bain made a small noise of surprise and she continued. “Yep. I found that out when Prince Fíli all but ambushed me at the premiere. I guess they’re second cousins or something.”

“Well,” Tilda said, licking her fingers to move the pages of her magazine. “If it makes you feel any better, Fíli gets his fair share of gossip too. In the back of this one there’s a list of Six Women Fíli Should Be Dating.”

“What, all at once?” Bain smirked. “That dog.”

“No,” Tilda sighed, unimpressed by Bain’s joke. _“Obviously_ not. It’s just like, the top six matches or something like that.”

“As if Fíli would take dating advice from anyone, let alone a bright orange tween magazine.” 

“It might be kinda dumb but it _is_ fun to read about,” Tilda shrugged. “So like, Eowyn’s on there as number one, because she’s a princess but she’s also a badass, you know? And Pearl Took too.”

“So they’re not discriminating on race, eh?”

“Nope! _Oldest of the Took Sisters and basically hobbit royalty, she’d really help bring out the Prince’s mischievous side!”_

“What mischievous side?” Sigrid muttered. 

“Apparently Pearl’s gonna find it,” Bain laughed.

“Number three is Lothiriel,” Tilda added. “They just _love_ her for getting her Ph.D. or whatever. There’s some dwarf ladies in the line-up too. Number five is Princess Birta, who does beard oil commercials and is totally _awesome.”_

“Yeah, okay, I guess that’s pretty cool,” Sigrid said. “Who’s last?”

“Lady Magga.”

“Wait– Lady _Magga?”_ She was some distant relation of Dain of the Iron Hills, sent away to Bree or Mithlond or somewhere to have her baby quietly, only bringing him home once the fuss had died down. Sigrid had always thought the whole “scandal” was blown well out of proportion - who cared if two consensual adults make a baby? - but wouldn’t Magga’s existing child put a kink in the line of succession? It just sounded like a headache all around. Why would this stupid magazine put _her_ on the list instead of–

Well. Instead of any other number of unmarried, as-yet-childless people of the female persuasion. Or any persuasion! Why be heterosexist about it? After all, Faramir and Boromir were still single as far as she knew, and for that matter so was Meriadoc Brandybuck! 

“Don’t worry, everyone still loves you, Siggy. They just don’t want you marrying Prince Fíli, I guess.”

Sigrid pinned her sister with a stare. “Who is ‘everyone,’ Tilly? And why do you think I give a shit about what _they_ think of Fíli’s dating prospects?

“I dunno who they are,” she answered, averting her eyes. “Magazines and stuff, I guess. The internet.” 

Just as Sigrid opened her mouth to lecture Tilda again on the dangers of internet commenters, her phone buzzed and she spared it a look. Dinner business. “Okay, well, I need to go do some more work,” she announced, sitting up to envelop her sister in a big hug. “Be good. I love you, I’ll see you later.”

~*~

Sigrid, her father, and her siblings stood outside their formal dining room, waiting patiently for their guests to arrive. Whenever she looked over at her da she saw the same exhaustion in his eyes as she’d seen after the Battle. Her gut twisted fiercely, steeling her resolve to make the rest of the evening go off without a hitch. King Thorin was not exactly known for graceful diplomacy, and though the charming Prince Kíli and his mother Princess Dis would be coming, so would Prince Fíli. 

She felt cursed by him, plagued by his unending proximity. She had gone with her friend to a film premiere, only to find him right behind her on the red carpet. When she got home, it had to be her job to prepare for his arrival. Now he was here. The very idea of him followed her everywhere, a stray cat who wouldn’t let anyone close enough to touch yet couldn’t be shooed away. 

Sigrid’s stomach flipped again. She didn’t want to see him. The thought sat heavy on her chest, making it hard to draw a full breath. Once again she found herself wishing for pockets in her dress but with nowhere to hide, her hands instead smoothed the fabric of her skirt down over her thighs again and again until her palms buzzed, unable to feel anything at all. It didn’t matter what she wanted anyway. She had a job to do.

“Do I have anything in my teeth?” Bain’s question cut through her racing thoughts and she looked into his exaggerated smile. 

“No, you’re fine. How about me?” She mirrored him and he gave her a thumbs-up. 

“Good to go.”

The door behind them opened with a click, and Sigrid turned to see the whole company of Erebor’s royal family approaching at speed. Thorin was first, of course, in his black tuxedo and bow tie. Fíli was right behind him, then followed Kíli, escorting his mother Dis. She wore a traditional Dwarven dress in deep purple with geometric designs on the trim. Around her waist she wore a wide belt with the same pattern woven in glittering thread, the tail of which fell from her navel all the way down to the floor. Sigrid gaped; she was stunning.

All of the Durins wore their hair and beards in traditional braids decorated with beads, which she had never seen before save in photographs of King Thorin’s coronation. At the RC both Fíli and Kíli had put their hair back out of their face, but now Sigrid was struck with how regal Fíli looked with his golden blonde hair falling against the black of his tuxedo jacket. As everyone stepped into place he held his shoulders back proudly, if a bit stiffly, standing just behind his uncle with his hands clasped behind his back.

Bain cleared his throat quietly, and Sigrid snapped her attention back to the front just in time for the doors to open to the dining room. The only people already in the room were photographers, all snapping pictures as the two royal families entered and exchanged pleasantries. King Thorin shook her da’s hand, and he gently pushed Sigrid forward to have her turn as well. 

“King Thorin, my eldest daughter, Princess Sigrid.” 

Thorin’s large, rough palms clasped hers, holding her hand as securely as if holding some glass ornament. “A pleasure. It’s a shame we haven’t had the chance to meet until now, though I hear you and my nephew are already acquainted.” He gestured behind him, bringing Fíli forward and into her space with a confidence and grace Sigrid hadn’t expected.

Fíli stared up at her, cheeks tinged with pink, only reaching out to take Sigrid’s hand once she offered it to him. A twinge of annoyance flared through her. Even though they didn’t get along, he could at least _play_ along. If Fíli wasn’t going to get his act together, this whole evening could blow up in her face. 

“Yes, that’s true,” Sigrid said, giving Thorin her brightest smile as she gingerly took her hand back from Fíli. She spared him only the shortest of glances before adding, “I must say Prince Fíli and Prince Kíli both made my first attendance at the Rivendell Council… Unforgettable.” 

Bard turned away from the cameras for a moment to roll his eyes at her. Before he could chastise her further, Dis pushed forward and grabbed his hand. “Oh King Bard, it’s lovely to meet you. Thank you so much for having all of us here tonight, I’m sure it’s going to be a wonderful time.”

“I– Of course,” Bard said, but she had already moved on. 

Princess Dis’ hands held both of Sigrid’s own tightly, and she shook them whenever she wanted to emphasize a word. “You look stunning, my dear, absolutely stunning. So elegant and mature! Ah! And I love what you’ve been doing this past year, absolutely love it! Speaking so eloquently and passionately, even when that horrible reporter ambushed you at that film premiere.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say–”

“It’s been marvelous watching you come into your own, dear,” Dis continued, still holding Sigrid’s hands in a fierce grip. “You’ll be a fabulous ruler some day I just know it. Anything you need, anything at all, you just ask me.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Sigrid squeezed her hands but Dis still held them fast. “You’re too kind.”

“Mother, mother please,” Kíli chuckled, patting Princess Dis on the arm. “Let go of her hands or you’ll be going home with them! Good to see you, Sig.” The informality didn’t bother her coming off Kíli’s lips. His grin made it clear he spoke from a place of familiarity rather than disrespect. 

In no time, the hundred or so other guests filed in and both royal families were seated for dinner. The food was a successful distraction. Sigrid threw herself into enjoying the dinner she had so meticulously planned, incorporating cuisine from both cultures in a way that made her truly proud. Yet the seven courses flew by too fast, and her wine glass ran dry too often, and suddenly Bard was standing up to invite everyone into the ballroom to enjoy some music and dancing.

This was the one battle Sigrid had lost in her efforts to plan the events of the night. Her da had insisted they teach their guests a traditional dance from their Lake Town days, and he’d picked a partnered dance. Sigrid had fought for a group dance, since the gender count was imbalanced in the two royal families, but Bard had dismissed her concerns outright, declaring it to be _modern times, where you could dance with whomever you pleased thank you very much._

So Sigrid stood in a line with Bain, Bard, and Tilda, holding her breath as the Durins matched themselves up. Kíli asked for Tilda’s hand in a gratuitous display, Dis curtseyed playfully to Bain, and sure enough, Fíli slipped into the spot in front of her just in time to leave Thorin with Bard. Kíli and Dis gave each other a theatrical wink, but it seemed the wine had worked its magic and both Thorin and Bard were in good enough spirits to play along. 

Sigrid kept her eyes fixed on her da as Bard and Tilda demonstrated the basic steps of the dance for everyone. Her hands twisted in the fabric of her skirt just below her waist and she shook her head once to clear it. She had been doing this dance since she was five years old; there was nothing to it, no reason at all for her heart to be pounding. She’d danced these steps with her da, with Percy, even with Alfrid on one particularly horrid evening. Fíli _had_ to be a better partner than Alfrid, surely.

The music started up and she curtseyed to Fíli. He bowed as well, eyes on Bard, rather than her, looking for a clue on how deeply to bend. Then Sigrid reached out her hand, Fíli took it lightly, and the dance began. Kíli and Dis were having the time of their lives, laughing at themselves and scolding their partners for not guiding them sufficiently when they missed a step or moved in the wrong direction. Even Thorin chuckled when he tripped over himself and stumbled the last few steps to the end of the line. 

Prince Fíli, however, had no problem mastering the choreography, a shy smile gracing his lips the whole time. They moved as if they had danced together for years. Sigrid didn’t need to say a word, nor could she even if she had tried. Something had changed. The air between them was charged with an inexplicable energy and she couldn’t look away. Her eyes locked with his and even when they shifted past each other in a do-si-do she immediately sought his gaze again, their arms brushing together in a closeness that kept Sigrid entranced. When he caught her out of a spin, his palm on the small of her back sent waves of heat up her spine. 

Sigrid could almost forget that they were in front of 300 guests, photographers, and security staff. Fíli’s usual, unyielding stare that once discomfited Sigrid now thrilled her. Her skin tingled wherever they touched, goosebumps rising despite the warmth of the room. Dancing had revealed a new side of Prince Fíli which, while no less intense, pulled Sigrid closer rather than pushing her away.

Before she knew it they were back where they’d started, the music slowed to a stop, and a swell of applause brought Sigrid back to herself. Fíli had a glimmer of sweat at his hairline and he looked about as surprised as she felt. What had come over her? Had he felt it too? 

“Thank you all for indulging me,” Bard called to the crowd. “Now, please. Enjoy the rest of the night!” Another smattering of applause covered up the beginning of the next song. Plenty of people stayed close to the dance floor as they started their conversations back up, but Sigrid ignored them and slipped away. 

She snatched a flute of champagne off a passing server’s tray and headed straight for the nearest door. Fresh air would help, it always did. The large patio was set with higher-topped tables just the right height for conversation between men and dwarves, and large space heaters kept the autumn chill away. No one else was on the patio yet, but the door behind her opened and closed again as Dagní slipped out after her. Thankfully she kept her distance, adopting the thousand-yard-stare she always used when standing guard. Sigrid did her best to ignore her, picked a table in the corner and pulled her phone from its hiding spot in her bra. She had to talk to someone about what had happened. 

Yet as she flicked through her contact lists, no one seemed to do. What would she even say? _Please send help, I accidentally had a feeling?_ Ori was busy on location for his next film, Tauriel would ask for details, Legolas would just laugh at her, and Faramir… No. She would have to deal with this on her own. 

“Damn it,” she muttered. The champagne was nice, but the bubbles did nothing to clear her mind. The scene played through her head over and over, torturing her with the drag of his fingers over her wrist, the small smile on his face as they turned together, the brush of his jacket against her bare back when they slipped past each other. Again she felt the press of anxiety on her breast. What was happening? She couldn’t have a crush on someone who seemed to go out of his way to make her miserable. She slapped her phone down on the table and raised her face to the sky, pulling a deep breath in through her nose. 

“Princess Sigrid–”

“Why do you keep chasing me?!” she exclaimed, whirling on Prince Fíli in a blazing fury. 

“Why do you keep running?” Fíli replied in a much softer tone.

Sigrid scowled. “I’m not running, I’m…”

“You’re what? Avoiding? Evading? Please, Sigrid, do me at least this one courtesy and be honest.” 

“Be honest?” Sigrid gaped. “Be _honest?_ Well, that’s never been a problem for you, has it, Your Highness? I have tasted _your_ honesty. I have drowned in it!”

Fíli furrowed his brow. “I–”

“You have _honestly_ disrespected me, _honestly_ mocked me, and honestly? Been pretty damned rude to me,” she hissed. “Duty to my country requires me to be civil towards you but that does not mean we will suddenly become the best of friends.” She picked up her phone off the table behind her and pushed past Fíli but he caught her by the arm.

“Sigrid, please,” he asked, pain in his voice. When she looked back into his eyes he winced. “I need– I owe you an explanation. And an apology.”

Sigrid pulled away from him, put her phone back on the table, and folded her arms across her chest. “You have five minutes.”

Fíli put his hands in his pockets. After a few false starts, he took one last deep breath and said, “I do value honesty, Your Highness, but perhaps it sometimes comes at the cost of courtesy. I find small talk difficult.” He shook his head. “That’s not true. I find small talk boring, and what’s difficult is playing along with the niceties. I realize… Well. It has been brought to my attention that I was quite rude to you at the RC, not only when we met at first but again when you apologized after my presentation. I was nervous at first, then embarrassed, and I reacted quite poorly.”

Sigrid raised an eyebrow. “And what was that when you saw Faramir and me at the closing dinner, then?”

Fíli winced again. “I… Kíli had told me to go find you, to ‘mend bridges,’ he said. But I saw you and Faramir had gotten close, and the words came out wrong, and he scolded me and…” Fíli sighed. “I had convinced myself that you didn’t belong there, that you were an embarrassment to Arda’s monarchies. I thought your father was a turtle on a fencepost, ignorant of how he got there or what to do about it. That you were an opportunist, latching onto any opportunity for power or influence. Princess Sigrid, I was so wrong. You were having the time of your life doing exactly what a princess should do, and I...”

“You blew it,” Sigrid finished. But despite herself she found her anger dissipating.

“Yes, I ‘blew it.’ And I blew it again when I saw you at the Malenna premiere. I shouldn’t have tried to ruin your fun. Then when I heard you speak with that reporter, it felt as if my whole world was crashing down around me. That’s when I knew I had terribly, terribly misjudged you.”

Sigrid’s mouth twitched as she fought to keep the smirk off her face. “What tipped you off? I was under the impression that everyone knows my story.”

“I knew that your father had been widowed with three children, but I had no idea–”

“No, you hadn’t.” 

“No, I hadn’t,” Fíli repeated softly. He looked back up into Sigrid’s eyes and smiled weakly. “I had no idea just how phenomenal you are.”

Sigrid blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I know just how hard it is to lose a parent, to feel suddenly responsible for filling that role for your younger siblings. But while we didn’t always live in the Mountain, we always had the rank, the respect. Our lives were hard when my father died, but we never had to choose between food and medicine.” Fíli shrugged. “Without a direct heir for Thorin, our survival was paramount. He picked us up and took us to Erebor, and we never went back.”

“Well,” Sigrid hedged, suddenly uncomfortable in an entirely new way. “I mean, Hilda-Bianca and Percy and them all helped out when they could, you know. Anonymous meals turning up on Yuletide, presents mysteriously finding their way to our doorsteps on our birthdays, that sort of thing.”

“Listen to you.” Fíli smiled fondly. “Still so self-effacing, so eager to acknowledge the few hands that helped you. This is what I’m trying to say. I realize now that no matter the circumstances of your ascension to royalty, you belong there now. You were made to do this work. Dale is blessed with a princess that has not forgotten her past, and will not forget her people." 

He reached out and covered Sigrid’s hand with his own. When she looked down at the large, broad hand engulfing hers, he yanked it away. “I am sorry, Sigrid. I’m understand you and Faramir are, ah, close... and I respect that. I hope that you can forgi–”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sigrid blurted. “Faramir and I are what?”

“I know it’s none of my business,” Fíli sighed, “and I’m not trying to cause you any more strife. I just ask for your forgiveness, and perhaps in time we can be friends.”

“Who– I– What?” she stammered. “What do you mean, ‘close?’’

“You don’t have to pretend, Sigrid. It’s only natural that two heirs of Men should find a deep connection.” Fíli waved a hand dismissively. “I saw the way you two were acting at the RC, and even _Nainlikhi_ mentioned that you would be a good match. I can’t say they’re wrong.”

“Neen-leek… what? What the fuck is that?”

A snort from behind Sigrid interrupted her frantic investigation, and she whirled around to see Dagní at her post by the door. She had a stone-faced neutral expression, but after six years together Sigrid could still see the shine in Dagní’s eye that betrayed her mirth. Sigrid pursed her lips and turned back to Fíli, whose cheeks were turning pink behind his beard.

“Would you like to fill me in, Your Highness? Or shall I ask my chief of security instead?”

“It’s, ah… _Nainlikhi_ is a, well.” Fíli fidgeted anxiously. “It’s a dwarven gossip magazine. Celebrity and entertainment news, mostly, but occasionally they have a bit about royalty as well.”

Sigrid’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and a grin spread across her face. “Ohh, this is too good. You’re telling me that Fíli, Crown Prince of Erebor and Heir to the Lonely Mountain reads _gossip mags?”_

A couple of people came out onto the patio but thankfully they were too wrapped up in each other to give Sigrid and Fíli much mind. But because she wasn’t a complete jerk, she lowered her voice and added, “You know, my sister loves those things too. But she’s _twelve._ And what are you, forty?”

“I’m ninety-one,” he hissed. “And I don’t read them, Kíli does. Somehow he found the article that _Arda Today_ wrote about the different ladies I should consider marrying? And then, in an effort to make me feel better, he showed me the one that _Nainlikhi_ wrote about you.”

“They wrote one about _me_ , did they?” Sigrid looked back at Dagní. “I’m going to kill you for keeping this from me.” When she failed to elicit a reaction from her, Sigrid just sighed. “So? I’m to marry Faramir then, am I?”

“ _Nainlikhi_ asserted that he was your best choice, as you’re both men and would age together. I was number two, with the consideration that my higher rank makes me a better choice despite the age disparity. A handful of other princes and dukes rounded out the list, with Legolas earning an honorable mention after your affectionate outburst at the Malenna premiere.” Fíli paused and shuffled his feet a bit before adding, “As I said, I don’t want to stand in your way.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes. “Faramir and I aren’t dating. He’s just… I don’t know. Nice? And with everything else I’ve got going on, I needed a little more nice in my life. Maybe for a while I thought it was going to turn into something, but…” She shook her head. “But over the past few days I realized that I liked the feeling of finally being wanted a lot more than I actually wanted him.”

“Surely he’s not the first,” Fíli said, tone clearly prompting Sigrid to divulge more.

“Fíli, please. I was poorer than dirt and the daughter of a mouthy smuggler. Then I was a princess followed around everywhere bysecurity personnel. Who was ever going to want to date me?”

“But you’re smart, and caring, and kind.” Fíli ducked his head. “And beautiful.”

She looked away, trying to force down the twisting feeling in her stomach. Suddenly the energy she’d felt during their dance was back in full force. The hairs on her arms stood on end even though the heaters around the patio still burned hot, and her pulse spiked in excitement. 

Was she always so easy? Sigrid wet her lips with a flick of her tongue. “Um. Thank you.”

Fíli took a step closer, taking one of her fidgeting hands in his. “You’re _remarkable,_ and I can’t tell you how deeply I regret every second I wasted thinking otherwise when I could have been getting to know you, learning more about you. I’d be lying if I said I weren’t happy to hear your feelings for Faramir weren’t romantic, though...”

“So what are we?” Sigrid asked. She gestured between them, then raised their hands that were still joined. “What is this?”

Fíli looked over to the other couple at the far end of the patio, still facing the other direction. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But if it’s all right with you, I’d like to find out.”

Dagní cleared her throat pointedly. Sigrid jerked back from Fíli, dropping his hand. She failed to hide the poison in her tone as she answered. “What?”

“Your father has noticed your absence,” Dagní said, tapping her earpiece. “You might want to go back inside.”

“Shit,” Sigrid muttered and grabbed her phone. “I’ll go first and find Da. Your Ma will probably be looking for you too though, so give it a couple minutes, kay?” She grabbed a handful of skirt and strode to the door as fast as her high heels would let her.

“Sigrid, wait!” He jogged to catch up with her and held out his own phone. “Could I… um.” Fíli licked his lips and started again. “Could I have your number?”

He looked so vulnerable standing there in front of her with his eyes so wide, the beads in his hair shining with the orange light of the lamps. It was such a stark contrast with her first memory of him that it took her a moment before she accepted the phone from him and typed in her number. 

“There,” she murmured. She pressed the phone back into his hands. “I’ll see you later.”

Dagní rolled her eyes. _“Go,_ you silly girl,”she urged. Before Sigrid could argue, she opened the door and pushed Sigrid through it, cursing young love with a smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, please note Dagni belongs to [inheritanceofgeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek) also known on tumblr as [mrsmarymorstan](http://mrsmarymorstan.tumblr.com/). Not only did she give me her OC but she beta'd this whole thing so go give her some lovin too. 
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	8. Pleasant Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that I have updated the tags (again) to reflect some content from this chapter. It's a tiny bit more spoilery than the last one, so I'll explain further in the end notes in case you'd like to look at the content warning. Happy reading!

When Sigrid woke up the next morning she hadn’t even opened her eyes before she patted around her nightstand for her phone. Sure, the Erebor delegation had only left Dale around midnight and Fíli probably hadn’t gotten home until 2 am, but there was still a possibility he’d sent her something while she slept, right?

Blearily wiping her eyes open, she looked at the lock screen. One new message.

_**Tauriel:** So how did it go?_

She sighed and rolled over onto her stomach. Where to begin?

_**Sigrid:** well we danced after dinner and it was weird af and then we talked it out on the patio and i gave him my number_  
_**Sigrid:** So_  
_**Sigrid:** better than expected???_

Seconds later the phone rang. 

“What happened to the ‘Stuffy Overdressed Heir to Assholery’?” Tauriel asked without preamble.

“Well, he… apologized,” Sigrid answered. “I guess he heard my interview at the premiere and realized that I wasn’t full of shit? I don’t know.” She shrugged and started picking at a thread on her pajama pants. “He was my partner for the old Lake Town dance Da insisted we perform, and it was like… It was like every dumb romance movie you’ve ever watched, Tau. Courtly chivalry, my hand in his, the rest of the room fading into a blur–”

“The eye sex,” Tauriel supplied.

“No!” Sigrid’s face flushed. “I mean… Maybe. Anyway. When it was over I pretty much ran outside and he followed me and he explained everything. He just,” she paused, considering her words carefully. “He just isn’t a very good communicator. Like. At all, apparently. But while some of it was just him being an asshole there were definitely also some times where I took his words in the worst possible way, rather than hear him out.” She sighed. “It’s complicated.”

She fell silent then, wishing for her phone to buzz with a message from him. “I’ve gone from hoping I never see him again in my entire life to waking up early just in case I miss a message from him. It’s kind of a lot to process in ten hours.”

“He’ll call, Sig,” Tauriel said gently. “Why don’t you go take a shower? They always call when you’re in the shower.”

“True,” she admitted. “I think I will.”

Sure enough, when Sigrid emerged from the bathroom there were a handful of messages waiting for her. Some were Tauriel confirming that Fíli had kept everything close to the jacket and Kíli knew nothing. Some were thank-yous and other greetings from the other state dinner attendees. One came from an unknown number.

_**9727683549811:** I hope it’s all right if I text you already today. K would probably say I’m being over-eager but I do want you to at least have my number in return._

“That’s it?” Sigrid asked the air. “Not even a _Hi, how are you?_ What am I supposed to do with this?” 

_**Sigrid:** It’s fine. Glad you got home ok. Tell K to stfu tho its none of his business_

She saved the number under _Stuffed Shirt_ and tried to figure out what to say next. Just because he had apologized and called her “remarkable” didn’t mean the conversation was magically flowing freely all of a sudden. She didn’t really know anything about him, come to think of it. He was the heir to the throne of Erebor since the king remained single and childless. He had a brother and a mother. His father was dead. 

Not exactly fabulous conversation starters.

Sigrid tapped her phone against her lips, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t complete idiocy when a sharp buzz rattled against her teeth.

_**Stuffed Shirt:** I hope you slept well. I certainly did after getting everything off my chest. In the light of morning however I realize it was rather imprudent of me to ambush you with my feelings at a state affair._

Sigrid had to laugh. Fíli texted exactly as he talked.

_**Sigrid:** It’s ok. All’s well that ends well, right?_

She headed down to the kitchen to grab some breakfast, and by the time her coffee was ready she still had no response from Fíli. 

_**Sigrid:** So what are you up to today?_

It wasn’t much, but it was better than letting the conversation die a premature death. Yet Bain blearily came and went, Da passed through on his way to a meeting, and Tilda finished her first bowl of cereal before Sigrid’s phone chimed again. 

_**Stuffed Shirt:** Reading about a thousand memos. You’ll be pleased to hear our Ministry of Environmental Protection has scheduled an audit of the mine blueprints._  
_**Stuffed Shirt:** and I’m sure a similar request from your EPA is somewhere in this stack as well. _

“Who is it?” Tilda asked, mouth full.

“No one,” she said with a smile. A small flutter in her chest caught Sigrid by surprise. They had shared a moment at the state dinner last night, there was no denying that. Yet she also couldn’t completely forget all the hurt she’d endured before his impassioned apology. He had jumped to conclusions, embarrassed her in front of new friends, and while none of his words had been inappropriate in and of themselves, he had certainly wielded them to wound.

_**Stuffed Shirt:** though Kíli is threatening me with violence should I not take a break soon._

Even so, the more she learned about Fíli, the more she wanted to keep learning. They might be able to move past their rocky start, if they really tried. She was ready to try.

_**Stuffed Shirt:** So I may as well go meet him for lunch. But can I see you sometime?_

She smiled, asking him “Already?” before she could stop herself. A proper date was as good a way as any to keep getting to know him, to see how he planned to conduct himself since clearing the air.

“Who is it?” Tilda repeated, socking her in the arm.

“Ow, you little twit!” Sigrid rubbed her shoulder and glared. “It’s Nunya.”

“Who’s–”

“Nunya Bizniss.” 

_**Stuffed Shirt:** Yes, already. How’s this Friday? _

“Gods, you’re lame.” Tilda rolled her eyes and took her bowl to the sink. “Catch ya later, loser.”

“Whatever, jerk.” Sigrid opened her calendar on her phone. She was introducing the keynote speaker at some veteran’s affairs thing early in the evening, but she wasn’t expected to stick around, thank the Valar.

_**Sigrid:** I’m free after 8. What do you have in mind? And how do we make sure we aren’t ambushed by photographers??_

It was definitely better for her to let Fíli take the lead on this one. He was older, surely more experienced in the world of Dating While Royal. Where do a Prince and Princess go on their first date? Sigrid chuckled. It sounded like the kind of bad joke you’d find on the inside of a candy wrapper.

 _ **Stuffed Shirt:** I’ll come down to Dale. There’s a place I know we can have dinner; they’re quite discrete. I have an idea for afterwards but need to double-check it this afternoon. _  
_**Stuffed Shirt:** You’ll want to wear comfortable clothes._

She frowned. While she was confident Fíli would want to keep the media away as well, she still needed to be prepared, and that meant looking camera-ready no matter what. She hadn’t worn jeans outside the house in five years. 

_**Sigrid:** What do you mean? Where are we going?_

What did “comfortable clothes” even mean anymore? Sigrid opened her closet and flipped through the hangers. She had pantsuits and skirt suits and dresses for everything from summertime horse races to midwinter art galas. Obviously none of those would do. She did have some nice sweaters that might work...

_**Stuffed Shirt:** No one will pay us any mind.Trust me._

How could he be so sure? Sigrid trusted him not to throw her to the paparazzi _on purpose,_ but sometimes she swore they had someone whose job it was just to watch the cars leaving the garage. Plus there was always some teenager with boundary issues waiting to ambush her in the bathroom. Still, it would be nice to just change into some jeans and a sweater and go out with someone after work, like a normal person. 

_**Sigrid:** Ok. It’s a date =)_

~*~

Dagní had assigned a small detail of secret service to Sigrid for the evening: a man, an elf, and herself. Instead of their sharp black suits, however, each of them wore plain clothes loose enough to conceal their firearms. Sigrid knew Dagní had found out what Fíli’s plan was and had given the guards particular instructions for the evening. Apparently the plans included keeping their mouths shut about the surprise.

“Whoever said romance was dead,” she grumbled, shucking out of the dress she’d worn to the veteran’s affairs dinner and pulling on a pair of tailored jeans. Because now she was the kind of person who had _tailored_ jeans. 

“Hey, just because I don’t want any doesn’t mean I want to ruin it for the rest of you,” Dagní shrugged. “I have orders from your father to keep you as safe as possible while letting you be as normal as possible. And ‘normal’ means ‘letting some guy take you on a surprise date.’ I don’t make the rules.”

Sigrid rolled her eyes as she put on a cream-colored sweater and some long socks, then zipped up her boots. “Is this okay though? Can you at least tell me that?”

“Very appropriate.”

“...Thanks.”

She grabbed her purse and went down to the garage, slipping into a car with two of the bodyguards while the other two took separate cars. They wound around to the north side of the city, away from the palace and the downtown areas. The buildings climbed up the foothills that eventually would give way to the Lonely Mountain, but far before they got close to Erebor the cars turned into a neighborhood that Sigrid noticed still had several run-down or burned-out houses. 

“Are you sure this is where we’re supposed to be going?”

“Quite sure, ma’am,” the driver replied. 

Roads twisted and turned and intersected at odd angles and the three-car caravan split up. Sigrid’s car stopped at a wide open, well-lit intersection of three different roads. There was a squat little white building with a red roof and a sort of patio area extending into the middle of the odd corner, which was enclosed by a tent with canvas walls. It appeared to be the only business nestled in the middle of a cluster of homes.

“What is this place?” Sigrid breathed as she got out of the car. The autumn air was crisp, friendly chatter and the smell of wood smoke coasting on the breeze.

“It belongs to an old friend,” Fíli said from the other side of the road. “Glad you found the place all right. Shall we go in?”

He wore an unbuttoned olive green jacket with deep pockets, black jeans, and boots. His hair was pulled back into a bun at the nape of his neck even with the braids and beads he had worn at the state dinner still woven in. He smiled at her, and offered his arm, and when she took it he led her to the front door of the restaurant without even a glance at the security guard behind her.

The smell of wood fire only grew stronger as they entered the building. A host at the door took one look at Fíli and led them to a table tucked in the back corner. As they took their seats, she poured glasses of water and announced, “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Sigrid looked around, wide-eyed. The walls were covered in what she liked to call “Rohirrim-kitsch” - all neutral tones, horse motifs, rope and leather and wrought-iron everywhere. “What _is_ this place?” she asked again.

Fíli laughed. “A friend of mine bought it once Dale was stable enough to sell him a restaurant permit. The decor is… Let’s call it ironic.”

She raised an eyebrow, about to question him further when a red-headed dwarf arrived at their table, about as wide as he was tall. “My boy!” he exclaimed, clapping Fíli on the back. “Good to see yeh!”

“You as well, Bombur,” Fíli replied with a wide smile. “It’s been too long.”

Ironic was right. This dwarf looked about as dwarfish as a person could get. He had a bulbous nose, broad hands and rosy cheeks, and though his chin was unusually bare, his mustache and hair were woven together in the hugest braid Sigrid had ever seen. It wrapped around his neck and hung all the way down to his waist, and looked about as thick as her wrist. What business did he have running a restaurant that looked like this?

“Far too long! And who is– Oh! Why hello.” Bombur gave a nod of his head in lieu of a bow. “Glad to see you here this evening!”

Sigrid hazarded a smile. Bombur hadn’t greeted her as one was “supposed” to greet a member of the royal family. Yet Sigrid felt happier than she had in months. 

When she glanced at Fíli, he smiled shyly back. “I didn’t think she’d ever been here before so I wanted to show her the wonders of The Iron Ladle. What’s good tonight?”

“You just let me take care of it,” Bombur replied. “Any restrictions I should know about? Allergies, dislikes, that sort of thing?” When Sigrid shook her head, Bombur nodded once. “Very good. Chadda will be back with a cocktail pairing. Enjoy your evening, you two!”

When Bombur had disappeared through the swinging kitchen doors, Sigrid leaned forward with wide eyes. “Where did you find this guy? He doesn’t give a fuck who I am.” She grinned. “He’s amazing!”

“I know,” Fíli chuckled. “He used to work in the Blue Mountains. I was seeing someone from over there some time ago, and our head of security suggested his restaurant. While that relationship might have fizzled out, Bombur has remained a steadfast ally. He has always treated me like any other person, never running his mouth off about the fact that I eat at his restaurant even though it would surely garner him even more business. The Iron Ladle is about the only place besides my bedroom where I can be myself.”

Sigrid pushed a piece of hair behind her ear. “And I suppose it helps that no one’s really expecting to see a prince or princess all the way out here. No one even noticed us come in.”

“Exactly. So how was your day?”

The vague and nonchalant way he asked actually put Sigrid further at ease. It was a relief to spend time with a person that understood that appearing at places and giving speeches wasn’t glamorous, it was just her job. When she answered him, it almost felt like she was talking about her day as a teacher or professor or something, especially since he could reply with his own similar stories. 

Cocktails arrived, then salad and soup, and Sigrid found that even when conversation paused so they could eat, the atmosphere was never strained. The other patrons at the restaurant definitely helped in that regard. This was no five-star restaurant downtown. This was where the neighborhood came on the weekend for a treat. Children shrieked in delight a few tables over, and what appeared to be a birthday party’s worth of people all laughed at somebody’s joke. It was casual. It was comfortable. It was exactly the kind of first date Sigrid never knew she wanted. By the time Bombur delivered the dessert, Sigrid was ready to burst.

“It’s a good thing you got me to change into comfortable clothes,” she groaned. “I could never have done this coming straight from that VA function. It was so sombre and formal and–”

“Enough about work for one night.” Fíli’s eyes twinkled as he handed her the second spoon. “I think you’re going to want to find some room for Bombur’s lime pie.”

She took the spoon from him with an exaggerated grimace. “You’re killing me!”

“You’ll thank me for it,” he shrugged.

The second the creamy tart sweetness hit her lips she had to admit he was right. “Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Fíli approached his dessert as Sigrid figured he approached everything else. He examined the pie on all sides, spoon hovering an inch above the pie until he was sure of exactly where he wanted to carve off his next bite. Sigrid, on the other hand, systematically demolished her side one spoonful after another. 

“That has to be the best meal I have ever had in my entire life,” she sighed once the pie was gone. Chadda cleared the empty plate from their table, and Fíli held up a credit card for her to take. “Hey now,” Sigrid frowned. “We can split it.”

Fíli shook his head. “No, I insist.” When Sigrid tried to protest he cut her off. “I promise I’m not trying to be a pain. I just think we’ll have to do this again sometime so you can have your turn.” 

“You better mean that,” Sigrid warned.

Chadda brought the card and receipt back, and Fíli signed it with an illegible scribble and a hefty tip. “I always mean what I say. Are you ready to move along?”

When they left the restaurant a car was already waiting for them, and two others sat idling further down the road. “I spoke with Dagní earlier,” Fíli began. He looked down at his feet, then back up at her with a bashful smile. “If you’d like, we could ride over together?” 

Sigrid hadn’t even thought about that. “I, uh. Yeah! Yes, I would like that.” But when she made for the back seat, he opened the front passenger door.

“I drive myself, actually,” he explained, gesturing towards the front seat. “Bragga is still riding along with us in the back, and the vehicle is tricked out with every last safety feature. But I would totally understand if you–”

“No,” she interrupted, surprising both Fíli and herself with her vehemence. “I haven’t ridden in the front seat of a car since I was about eighteen. I’d love to.” She brushed past him and sat down, buckled up the seat belt, and pulled the door closed herself. 

When she glanced back at Bragga, she saw a severe-looking dwarf sitting in the back seat with his gigantic arms folded across his chest. His jet-black hair was braided back to keep it out of his eyes, and his beard was long enough to hit his chest. He wore loose-fitting pants and a long-sleeved henley that undoubtedly disguised a kevlar vest and firearms. He would have been terrifying, but when she caught his eye he grinned and gave her a little wave.

Fíli slipped into the driver’s seat and pulled them away from the restaurant, weaving them back through the hills and down towards the river. He drove carefully, stopping for every yellow light, signalling every turn, never going over the speed limit. 

“You drive like my Nan,” she teased as he waved some pedestrians across the street.

“Better than getting pulled over,” he shrugged, pursing his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with being cautious.”

“If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you let a chauffeur drive you?”

“I just don’t.” He flicked on his turn signal and looked away from Sigrid to see if there were any cars coming from the other direction. Yet even after they were in the clear and he turned the corner, he didn’t look back to her.

“Fíli?”

“I don’t let anyone else drive my car,” he said sharply.

Sigrid threw her hands up in surrender. “Okay, sheesh. Nevermind then.” They rode on silently for a few long moments, Sigrid looking out the window to count the passing streetlights. Maybe riding along with him was the wrong idea. Maybe he was just putting on a show for dinner and was back to his old self.

Then he sighed. “It’s how my father died,” he began quietly. “We were all in the car. New driver, our other one was on parental leave.” He turned onto the next road and when he spoke again, his voice had a strange, sad, tight quality that broke Sigrid’s heart. “He was just a young kid, over-eager. It was icy, and he became convinced a paparazzo was following us. He tried to shake them, turned too fast. We slid into another car coming from the other direction, on Dad’s side.”

“Oh, Fíli,” she breathed. 

“Dad was killed pretty much instantly. The rest of us just suffered minor cuts from all the broken glass, minor whiplash. Mum got Kíli out of the car and our driver went to check on the other driver, who was seriously injured but pulled through in the end. I, uh.” He blinked rapidly, frowning as he abandoned the previous sentence for a new one. “Traffic cameras could not confirm any one car was actually following us.” Fíli blew out a sharp breath. “And that’s how I became the heir to Erebor and stopped trusting drivers.”

Sigrid couldn’t think of a single thing to say. “Fíli I’m so sorry,” she murmured, knowing from experience how perfectly inadequate a statement it was.

“Well, you know. It’s as good a story as any to tell on the first date.” He smiled ruefully and pulled them into a parking lot. “At least it kept you from noticing where I was taking you.”

“You know, from anyone else’s mouth that would be… creepy…” She trailed off as she read the illuminated sign above the door. “Sunset Lanes? You’re taking me…”

“Bowling,” he finished confidently, sitting up proudly. “Cosmic bowling, to be precise.”

“But all these cars! This place is _full_ of people!”

“All the black lights and the neon keeps people from getting a good picture of us unless they have professional equipment, and my people have been working to ensure that no professional knows we’re here. Trust me, it’ll work.” He unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, Bragga right behind him. 

Sigrid had no choice but to follow. Inside the bowling alley lights flashed, bass thumped, and pins crashed. Bragga strode to the front desk and got the attention of an employee.

Fíli and Sigrid ended up with one lane, and Bragga and Dagní took the other. Even when Sigrid had changed her shoes and walked up and down the length of the alley twice to find the right ball, no one stopped her, no one asked for a photo, no one pointed at her when they thought she couldn’t see them. Both security forces had accomplished their goal, and perhaps even better than anonymity was the discovery that Dagní was a horrible bowler. 

“Should I have them put the bumpers up?” she teased after Dagní threw her eighth gutter ball.

“Bumpers are for cheaters and infants,” she replied testily. “Focus on your own lane, will ya?” 

Sigrid picked up her ball and took her turn, picking up three pins from the left corner. Fíli whooped from the table in the back and finished pouring her some beer from a plastic pitcher. “Hope you don’t mind I just picked one for us. If you don’t like it I’ll be happy to get something else.”

She took a sip and smiled. It tasted of wheat and orange, not bitter like the beers her da and Bain preferred. “No, I like it,” she nodded. “Good choice.”

“I thought you might.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled back at her. “Now go on, roll your second ball.”

Fíli was a bowling machine. Sigrid wouldn’t have been surprised if the Lonely Mountain had an alley in the basement, given the confident way Fíli timed his steps, cradled the ball in his hands, and let it roll straight as an arrow down the lane before it hooked sharply to strike just behind the front pin. He was friendly and encouraging when it was her turn to bowl, but as soon as he stepped up to the lane his face turned stone-cold serious. When the first game was over he beat her by over a hundred pins, but to her surprise he never gloated. He just asked if she wanted to go again. During their second game, he shocked her again by gently asking if she wanted any pointers. While he occasionally chided her for forgetting his tips, when the second game was over he made sure to point out that she’d improved her score by twenty.

They fell into an easy rhythm, talking and joking and genuinely having fun. The longer they spent together the more their antagonistic history felt like some ancient story she’d heard second-hand. Yet despite how much fun she was having, after the third game Sigrid was rubbing her right arm. “I’m afraid I have to call it, Fi,” she said. “I can’t do it anymore. Time to go home.” 

“Of course,” he nodded. “It’s getting late.” Together they put away the bowling balls and changed their shoes, drained the last of their beers and headed out the door. Heading to Fíli’s car and slipping into the front seat felt like the most natural thing in the world. He let her pick the radio station and she was astonished to discover that when Fíli sang along, it sounded really good. His voice was always rich, but when he sang it took on this silky quality that gave her goosebumps. They pulled up to the gate and were ushered in, and Sigrid directed Fíli to bring his car around the back and into the garage where she could be sure no one could snoop on them from afar.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” she said quietly once the car had come to a stop. 

“Me too,” he smiled. “Can I walk you to the door?” 

Though it was a quick walk, each step felt charged with possibility. Sigrid caught Fíli glancing at her, and their hands brushed more than once over the short distance. He had been really wonderful to her tonight, taking the lead on their plans without being bossy, asking her if she wanted advice rather than just letting it fly, and opening up to her about what had to have been the worst day of his life. He was _trying,_ and Sigrid had enjoyed the most normal, fun night she’d had in eight or nine years.

So when they reached the door Sigrid took his hand in hers. “Thank you, Fíli,” she murmured, “for a wonderful evening.” She took a step into his space, bent her head to his and kissed his cheek. The smell of his cologne washed over her, and when she took her time pulling back he turned and captured her lips with his again. His free hand cupped her jaw while his lips coaxed a tiny, startled noise out of her. Little white fireworks burst behind her eyelids as his mouth softened, his tongue brushing over her lip softly in a silent promise for more. But as soon as it had begun, it was over, and Fíli was smiling at Sigrid’s breathless state.

“So…” she gulped, trying to calm her racing heart.

“So…?”

“So, um, goodnight,” she finished, licking her lips. “Drive safe. Text me when you get home?”

“I will,” he said solemnly, though his eyes were smiling. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she repeated, and let herself into the house. She closed the door and leaned against it, finally letting herself grin as the roar of Fíli’s engine faded away. In the bottom of her purse, her phone chimed.

_**Tauriel:** How did it go???_

Yet as she headed up to her bedroom, Sigrid opted not to send a response just yet. She loved Tauriel, but Sigrid realized she would much rather keep everything to herself, at least until tomorrow. Tomorrow she would tell her friend all about her fantastic first date. Tonight she would dream of soft hands in her hair and the brush of his mustache on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Fili and Sigrid discuss how his father died when the family was involved in a car accident.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Thanks again to inheritanceofgeek for letting me use Dagni! Hopefully you don't mind that I made her suck at bowling. =) I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much for reading!


	9. A New Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say that in this chapter, we earn our 'E' rating. However if you aren't interested in reading that sort of thing, I think you'll find it's very easy to see it coming and you can scroll down to the comments/kudos/etc at the end without missing a thing, plot-wise. Either way: enjoy! <3

Everything was… fine. 

Everything _was_ fine. Really. Sigrid and Fíli had been dating for several weeks and everything was fine.

He would travel down to Dale, and they’d eat at Bombur’s or slip into box seats at the theater or sometimes they would stay in and gang up on Bain and Tilda in their video game of choice. She would go up to Erebor too, where Fíli did in fact have a bowling alley in a lower level. They’d practice down there, or watch a movie in the Durins’ private theater, or climb all the way to the top of the Mountain and just look at the landscape with a bottle of wine. 

Sometimes work would get in the way, and they wouldn’t see each other for a couple weeks. Every so often they would get lucky though, and end up invited to the same event. Those were always the most fun, even if they did have to try not to be too romantic with each other lest the rumors fly. Regardless, Fíli always made sure to text her when he woke up every morning, and Sigrid texted him when she turned in each night. 

Her work on the Healthcare Committee was going well too. There was to be a hearing once Dale’s Council resumed session in the spring, and Sigrid and Percy were working with the rest of the committee to be prepared to testify. When Sigrid wasn’t bolstering up her evidence or writing out note cards, she researched and reached out to members of the Council to further lobby her case. Every day was full of lunch dates and private meetings, and even though the Council was not in session she couldn’t get a commitment from anyone.

“They’re still worried about funding,” she said for what had to be the umpteenth time. “No one wants to raise taxes, and I understand that, but– ugh! _Still!”_

Fíli snuck a bite off of her plate and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, what about everything you said at the RC?”

“Oh, so you _were_ listening?” Sigrid teased. “Also, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He swallowed and made a face. “Of course I was listening. I had to arm myself to get back at you, didn’t I?” He waved his fork dismissively. “Anyway. You came to the RC for international support, and now that you’re so close to the actual vote, you’re focused inward again. What if you could offset the start-up cost with–”

“–With _international treaties,”_ she finished, tapping her thumb on the table. “It could work,” she admitted. “Why, are you volunteering?”

Fíli laughed. “Something tells me Erebor wouldn’t be too pleased to hear of their prince giving his girlfriend special treatment.”

“You should talk with Ambassador Dori, my dear,” Bombur said by way of greeting. He set down a honey cake with two spoons and patted both of them on the shoulder. “Could be there’s something Erebor wants, too.” He winked and turned back to the kitchen, swaying back and forth to whatever tune was in his head.

Fíli carved off the corner of the cake. “I’m just saying, the other RC ambassadors will remember you. You should follow up.”

“Great,” Sigrid sighed. “Let me just add ten or twelve more meetings to the To Do list. With all this going on I have no idea when I’ll be able to do anything else!”

“What else is on your list? Surely not more work.” Fíli gave her a teasing smile. “You’ve been on about your committee for the past twenty minutes.”

“Sorry,” she grumbled, stuffing a huge bite of cake into her mouth. As she chewed she mentally ran through the list. “Honestly besides the freaking Healthcare Reform Bill, the biggest pain in my ass is Tilly’s birthday party. She’s turning thirteen in a month, it’s a huge deal for Lake To–” She pursed her lips and corrected, _“Dalish_ people. So there’s supposed to be this big party, but I have no idea what I’m doing now that we’re freaking royalty. Whom do I invite? How many? What food do you serve? When do–”

“Family and her friends, Cabinet families, royal families of immediately neighboring kingdoms, and on from there until you hit about 200 or 250. If you do an afternoon party you can get away with posh finger food and cake, and you should send invitations out as soon as possible. That’s the only bit I think you’re behind on.”

“I– What?”

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” Fíli explained. He folded his napkin on the table and continued, “My mum always said there wasn’t any good reason she had to plan all the parties by herself, so she made me help her. Eventually we got quite good at it; Kíli’s 80th was… legendary. Let me help you.” He reached out and took her hand. “We’ll do it together, okay?”

Sigrid squeezed his hand and nodded. “Okay. What did you do when you were thirteen?”

Fíli blanched. “Well. Um. Do remember that dwarves age differently,” he sputtered. “So when I was thirteen I was mostly tossing toy trucks around and smashing my fists into the cake my mum tried to serve me.”

She giggled, stirring the straw in her glass of water. “Oh I’d love to see those photos.”

Again Fíli pulled a face. “If I had it my way they’d all be burned.”

“I’ll just ask Kíli then.”

When the bill came Sigrid took her turn to pay it, and the two of them walked out into the cold. Snow was falling in thick, fluffy clumps that caught on the wool of her hat and perched delicately on Fíli’s hair. Snowflakes reflected the warm yellow light coming off the street lamp and quieted the sounds of the city until it felt like Sigrid and Fíli were the only two people in the entire world.

“Wow,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.” She pulled her scarf up higher on her neck and blinked as the snow fell into her eyes. So far that year, Dale had just gotten small snowfalls and ice storms. Everything was brown and covered in muck. The new blanket of white falling softly over the grass made everything look fresh and clean again like so much magic; Sigrid didn’t even realize she was grinning until she looked over to Fíli and saw him frown. “What’s up, Fí?”

“Hm?”

“You look grumpy all of a sudden. Don’t you like snow?”

His frown deepened into a grimace. “I like it fine, so long as I’m at home. The roads back up the Mountain are going to be shit tonight. I’m…” he shifted from foot to foot, “...not looking forward to it.”

“Stay with me,” she said. The words tumbled out of her mouth, the solution so obvious to her she couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it. 

Fíli ducked his head, brows knitted together. “I’m sorry?”

“Stay with me. Tonight.” Sigrid took his hand and pulled him closer. “It’s dark, and the snow’s not going to get any better. Spend the night with me.” She slotted their hips together and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I’ll make hot cocoa,” she murmured, “and we can build a fire…” She brushed her nose against his, chasing his lips for a kiss. “Whaddya say?”

He let her kiss him but shook his head. “Sigrid, I…” The somewhat distracted look on his face was not exactly what Sigrid had been hoping for.

“Oh.” She dropped her arms and took a step back. “Unless… You don’t…?” Sigrid felt her cheeks burn despite the chill. “I didn’t mean– There’s plenty of rooms, we don’t have to– I just don’t want you to get into an accident, that’s all. Really.”

“Gods, Sig, no, that’s… That’s not it at all.” Finally he smiled at her, and when he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, his hand was warm and gentle. “I’m just thinking, you know, things have changed a lot since I first started dating.”

“Oh?”

“Well, you’re human, for one. Forty-some-odd years ago it was against the law to date non-dwarves. Thankfully we’re beyond that now. But perhaps even stranger is _you’re_ inviting _me_ back home.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure my idiot younger-self would have taken kindly to the role reversal.”

Sigrid smirked. “Well then it’s a good thing I never met your younger self.”

“Indeed.” Fíli pressed his lips to hers in a brief kiss. “I want to stay with you tonight. But what about Bragga and the rest of my staff? And I have to ask - what will your father say?”

Sigrid pushed Fíli’s shoulder playfully. “Oh for Valar’s sakes. My father isn’t home. But if he were, he’d say, _‘Don’t be a fool.’_ We live in a damn palace, Fí. There’s more than enough room for everyone. The last thing Da would want is for you to die on your way home from Dale when you could have just bunked with us and stayed safe.” She rocked back and forth slowly, pulling him along with her in a playful shuffle through the fluffy powder. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

“All right.” Fíli leaned in and kissed her again, holding her head in his hands like she was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. A spark of delight lit up inside her, and as he coaxed her lips apart she sank against him. The smell of sandalwood floated off his skin and mixed with the sharpness of the snow and the leather of his jacket. When his tongue flicked out to taste her in purposeful movements, she put her arms around his waist and pulled his hips flush up against hers. She couldn’t get enough of him under her hands and lips, couldn’t get close enough to him to sate the intense longing inside that seemed to have sprung up out of nowhere.

His hand slid up into her hair, stroking through the loose strands absently until she nipped at his lip and immediately soothed it with a pass of her tongue. He gasped, and his hand tightened in her hair, pulling just hard enough to send an unexpected wave of want down Sigrid’s spine. A quiet moan bubbled out of her, and when she shifted against him she felt another pulse of heat as the growing bulge in his pants pressed against her.

“Okay,” she gulped between kisses. “That’s it. Home. Now. Please.”

Love-drunk and giggling, they stumbled to Fíli’s nondescript black sedan and took their position in the caravan. As they headed down the hill to the palace, Sigrid called ahead and apologetically roused the housekeepers so enough rooms could be prepared for Fíli’s staff. 

The fifteen minute drive transformed into thirty thanks to the blowing snow, but the whole party arrived at the Dalish palace safely. Sigrid walked the four security guards to their rooms personally and made a note for herself to arrange for a bonus to be distributed to the staff she’d inconvenienced. Not only had they gotten the rooms ready with no notice, but they had also made a point to light a fire in the hearth of a little-used living room just off the wing that held the family’s bedrooms. 

When everyone was settled and Sigrid was convinced her siblings would stay in the game room or their bedrooms, she took Fíli by the hand and led him back to that living room. “So I guess by _‘we can make a fire’_ I really meant _‘a fire can be made for us.’_ But believe me that I could have done it myself.”

“I believe you,” he chuckled. They settled on the sofa with his arm around her and her legs draped over his lap. It was cozy, and close, and she almost couldn’t believe how easily they fit together.

“So,” she said, though she had nothing to follow it up with.

“So,” he echoed. 

“So… Are you seriously going to help me plan Tilly’s party? Because I can use all the help I can get.”

He laughed, the fire twinkling in his eyes, and nodded. “Yes, I was serious. Get a notebook or something, and we’ll get to work.”

Sigrid leaned over and rifled through a drawer in the side table. “Jackpot!” She opened the notebook, scribbled in a corner to get the ink flowing in her pen, and looked back up at him. “So what’s first?”

They worked for about an hour, drafting up guest lists and menus, sketching out decorations and room layouts, and even deciding what kind of gift they should give to Tilda. Finally Sigrid closed the notebook with a snap. “That should do it,” she declared. “For now, anyway. The rest I will worry about tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” Fíli asked. Teasing, he added, “We can put another log on the fire, keep working the whole rest of the night if you like. I know how you are.”

“I have other plans for the rest of the night,” she grinned. She shifted until she was almost sitting on his lap, then pushed aside his hair to nuzzle under his jaw. “You know. If you’re interested.”

Fíli tilted his head away from her so she had better access to his neck, and let out his breath in a long, slow sigh. “Ahh, I think I could be interested.”

“Wonderful,” Sigrid smirked. She pressed open-mouthed kisses down along his throat, nipping and sucking on the bare skin she found. This late at night, his five-o’clock shadow on his neck had grown long enough to scrape her lips but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Every little sound he made, every desperate grab at her hair or arm urged her on until, with a frustrated growl, Fíli hauled her off of his lap and back onto the sofa. In an instant he was on top of her, his knee between her legs and his mouth capturing hers in a bruising kiss.

Heat flooded through her, satisfaction and longing mingling together until she grinned against his lips. “You’re not the only one who knows how to tease,” he muttered as his hand slipped under her shirt. He moved his thumb in slow circles along the curve of her waist and sucked on her pulse. Before long she was writhing underneath him, grasping at his shirt and pressing herself against his thigh. The ache between her legs was a throbbing agony.

“Fíli, please,” she breathed, eyes shut tight.

His hand skated further up her torso until he reached her breast. He brushed over her nipple, and swallowed her cry with a kiss. “Please what?” he asked, this time pinching and teasing it into a hard, sensitive peak through her barely-padded bra.

Sigrid gasped and arched into him. “Please,” she repeated, almost sobbing when his thumb skimmed over the border of flesh and fabric along the edge of the cup. “Please.” It was the only word she could say.

Fíli’s thumb and forefinger dipped into her bra and tweaked her nipple sharply. Sigrid cried out, and he looked down at her with a wicked smile. “Hush, now, someone will hear you,” he warned in a low voice. He moved his fingers again and she felt another pulse of pleasure so strong she bit her tongue to keep from making another noise.

He was merciless, each twitch of his thumb causing a sharp bolt shooting from her breast to her core. Yet the more he played with her one breast, the more she felt the absence of his touch on her other. Warmth pooled low in her belly but the lack of touch on one side was driving her out of her mind. Her fingers pulled at his shirt, her short nails digging into the firm muscle of his back through the fabric. Frustrated, Sigrid tried groping at her breast herself but with the layers of clothing in place, nothing she did would sate her. “Fíli, please,” she begged again. 

“Please what,” he responded patiently. “You have to tell me what you want, or how can I give it to you?” 

Another kiss to her throat, another minute movement of his thigh between her legs, and she planted her palms flat on his chest and pushed. Her breath came fast and shallow, and her heart was pounding. Fíli pulled his hands away, then sat up on his knees and watched her closely.

“Please,” she gasped, running her hand through her hair. “Move this to where we won’t be interrupted.”

He stood up from the couch and helped her to her feet as well. Her head swam with desire and she took a moment to ground herself again. She took some deep breaths, smiling at Fíli with a mixture of nervous uncertainty and pure excitement. He smiled back and silently tugged her clothing back into place, though Sigrid knew that if they passed anyone in the hall it would be clear as day what the two of them were up to. “Come on, I’m just down the hall.”

Each step was beautiful agony. Her bedroom had never felt so far away, never had she been so concerned about who else might be strolling around, and never had she wanted quite so badly to tear the clothes off someone right there in the hallway. Sigrid led him to her room, tensing at the slightest sound. Yet no one else appeared, and when she closed the bedroom door behind them her heart thudded in her chest with renewed vigor. Fíli looked around her room, taking in the art on the walls and the knick-knacks on her desk. He paused at a picture of her family on her bedside table, and when he looked back at her there was such a softness in his eyes that Sigrid felt her heart could burst.

“Come here,” he said.

Sigrid found herself following his orders reflexively. She stood in front of him, a flush running down her face and chest as his eyes travelled all the way down her body and back up again. She looked down and wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze, but he reached out to gently pull them away. 

“You’re beautiful,” Fíli whispered. “Let me see you.” He took her chin in his thumb and forefinger and tipped it up until she met his gaze. “Please.”

She wanted him, so desperately. She wanted to please him, wanted to hear the same needy noises in his throat too. Unwilling to move even an inch away from him, Sigrid unbuttoned her jeans where she stood, slid them down her legs, and kicked them aside. When Fíli took the hem of her shirt, she raised her arms and let him pull it off of her. She shivered, and he took her into his arms with a kiss.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll warm you up soon enough.” His fingers snapped her bra’s clasp open and slid the straps down her arms, and she stood there in just her yellow panties. For a moment, she wondered what he would think of the scars she still bore from her life before the Battle, or the stretch marks that blossomed up her hips now she was no longer under-nourished.

Perhaps sensing her unease, Fíli smiled at her. “Beautiful,” he repeated, and Sigrid felt a rush at his approval.

“You’re over-dressed,” she mumbled through her sheepish grin.

“I am,” he agreed. “Lie down.” As she obeyed, he pulled off his sweater and t-shirt, revealing a broad chest dusted with golden hair. His shoulders were strong, well-toned, and when he unbuckled his belt the muscles in his chest rippled in the most delightful way. He turned to shuck his pants off and put them on the chair at her desk, and she noticed a long white gash down his back, right above his kidney. 

Her shock must have shown on her face when he turned back. “The Battle,” he said, but offered no further explanation. He just climbed onto the bed next to her and ran his hand down her shoulder. His lips were soft on the bare skin of her chest and neck, and she melted against him with a happy sigh.

“Now where were we?” he asked, ghosting his palm over her breast. 

She caught his wrist and brought it back into place, squeezing his hand so he would do the same to her breast. “Please,” she asked again.

“Come now, pretty Sigrid, you know that’s not good enough,” he chided gently. His fingers and thumb drew lazy patterns over her breast, teasing her nipple with the gentlest touches. “I can’t read your mind. You have to tell me what you want. Then I can give it to you. These are the rules.”

Sigrid threw her head back, frustration and embarrassment making her blood run hot. “Oh come on!” she groaned. “I need you, Fí, you’re driving me mad!” 

Fíli kissed a trail down her neck to her breasts, stopping just before he reached her nipple. “Tell me,” he said in a low voice.

His lips and tongue flitted against her nipple as he spoke, and in a rush of impatience, Sigrid held his head down to her chest. “Just do it, Fí, please, I need to feel your mouth on me now!”

With a pleased little sound, Fíli took her nipple into his mouth. His tongue and teeth and lips created a swirling feeling of pleasure through her chest and up into her head. When he finally moved his hand up her other breast, she arched into him with a soft cry.

Sigrid could feel her panties getting damp with each brush of his beard on her skin. His erection, no longer inhibited by his jeans, strained against the cotton of his boxers and pressed against the side of her leg. She slid her leg experimentally up and down, trying to tease out a sound from Fíli, but he choked it back and removed his hand from her chest. 

He gave himself a few quick strokes over the fabric, perhaps to sate himself for the time being. She felt the loss of his touch acutely. When he looked down at her with eyes darkened by desire, she reached up and pulled him back to her for a kiss. He urged her lips apart, tongue moving with sure strokes into her mouth. It was enough to distract her from his hand’s path down her stomach until he slipped his fingers between her legs. Sigrid eagerly opened up for him, gripping his shoulder tightly and moaning into his mouth. 

Fíli’s fingers skimmed over the fabric of her underwear, just enough to send another surge of heat down to her core, and then his hand was gone. 

Sigrid pulled away and gasped for breath. “What the… Damn you, Fíli, what the hell?”

He kissed her neck again, right under her ear where her pulse thrummed hot. “Do you want me?”

“Yes, of course I want you,” she sobbed, her hand scrambling to find his and bring it back to where she needed it. Whatever game he was playing infuriated her, but even worse, it was making her hotter than she’d ever felt in her life. “Please, touch me!”

“Now you’re getting it,” he chuckled, and did as she asked. When his fingers ran along the edge of cotton this time, she felt a small thrill at how wet the fabric felt against her skin. There was no way he hadn’t noticed that. He rubbed over her clit in gentle circles, slowly increasing the pressure until Sigrid was bucking her hips against his hand. Each breath came to her in a gasp, and it was only once he slowed to a stop that she realized she had been moaning loudly into his shoulder.

“No, please,” she whimpered. Tugging at the waistband of her underwear, she begged, “I was so close, I need… I need to feel you. Inside. Please…”

Fíli pressed soothing kisses to her lips, brushing hair off her forehead with his other hand. “Ssh, it’s all right. I’m here, I won’t leave you like that.” He helped her out of her underwear, then climbed off the bed for a moment to slip his off as well. “Do you have a condom?”

Sigrid looked down and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a sheepish smile. She didn’t want to admit that she’d been hoping for this for some time, and had prepared accordingly. “Um, yeah, in the drawer of the table there.”

“No sense being bashful, pretty Sigrid,” he shrugged. “Nothing to be ashamed of in being prepared.” Methodically he took a packet, opened it, and rolled the condom all the way down the length of his dick. “I was. If you hadn’t had one, I did in my pants pocket. But now,” he said, climbing back onto the bed between her legs. “Back to business.”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched his fingers draw a lazy trail down her neck, over her breasts, down her stomach, and between her legs. He ran his thumb over her clit again which made her gasp and smile. But this time his fingers went further, slipping inside her easily with how wet he’d made her.

“Oh, oh gods,” Sigrid breathed, reaching down to hold his hand against her. “Ohh, yes, Fíli, please, more.”

He lowered himself to fall on top of her but caught himself with his free arm, then bent his head to her chest in a deep groan. “Fuck, Sig, you’re so wet for me.” 

He crooked his fingers and she ground her hips down on his hand. “I am, I want you so bad Fí, please, please!”

“You know how to get what you want,” he said in a rush of breath. “Tell me.” 

Sigrid reached further to take his cock in her hand. With a few short, hard strokes, she whispered, “Fuck, Fíli, please. I need you, I need your cock, I need to feel you inside– _oh fuck!”_

Fíli was moving his fingers in and out of her in a frantic pace, but the second she said the words he withdrew. Sigrid hardly had time to miss him before she felt the press of his cock against her, pushing into her and stretching her even further than his fingers had. She gripped his upper arms tightly in a futile attempt to stop the moan of satisfaction rising out of her as he seated himself fully inside. “Oh, Fí…”

He remained perfectly still, hair falling in a curtain to hide his face as his chest rose in heaving breaths. The moment lasted far longer than Sigrid anticipated. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly. She pushed his hair back and found his eyes screwed tightly shut. 

“Is this not what you asked for?” he teased through gasping breaths. Though his tone was playful, Sigrid noticed his arms were trembling on either side of her with the struggle of keeping still. She slid her fingers into his hair and pulled it back from his face firmly. 

“Fine,” she breathed, hooking her ankles together around his waist. _“Move,_ Fí. Fuck me like you want to.”

He groaned with relief as he started to move inside her. Each drag of his cock against her walls left stars bursting behind her eyes, and when he pushed fully inside her the pressure on her clit brought a new pulse of delight. His pace quickened rapidly, her hands groped at his back and ass and arms, both of them chasing after ecstasy.

Fíli dipped his head to take her nipple into his mouth again, and Sigrid gripped the other between her fingers as well. She tilted her hips up to meet his, chasing that perfect touch, feeling so close, she was almost there. “That’s it, Fí, let yourself go, just fu– ah! –fuck me, yes, please!”

He pumped his hips even faster, slamming harder against her, his brows knit together in focus and exertion. Sigrid felt the familiar coiling low in her belly, tighter and tighter and all-consuming until finally her vision went white and she cried out in perfect release. Her back arched, her whole body stiff with rapture as her walls clenched around his cock over and over and over. It was only a few short bucks of his hips before Fíli went still, every muscle in his body held rigid.

Then it was over, and he relaxed on top of her in a heavy, sweaty mess. Waves of aftershock still rolled through Sigrid’s body. She shivered despite the heat of his closeness, unable to keep the grin off her face.

“You’re loud,” Fíli teased as he carefully pulled out of her and rolled over.

“You made me,” she countered weakly.

He kissed her forehead and went to the bathroom to clean up. When he returned, he turned the lights out, pulled the blankets out from under her and covered them both up. It felt good to be taken care of, not just sexually but afterwards as well. He was gentle with her, careful to make sure she was comfortable, and when he curled up behind her and put his arm around her, she felt safer than she had since she was a child.

“Good night, pretty Sigrid,” he said with another kiss to the back of her shoulder.

“G’night,” she mumbled, and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	10. Everyone Loves a Party

Sigrid woke some time later when she turned and her hand hit cool, empty sheets. It wasn’t like she was used to sleeping next to someone else, but still, the loss of Fíli’s warmth brought her blinking blearily awake. What time was it? She grabbed at the bedside table for her phone, but it wasn’t there; in their haste last night she’d left it in the pocket of her pants, forgotten on the floor. 

“Dammit,” she grumbled, and turned on the lamp. Her clothes were in a messy pile at the foot of her bed, and Fíli’s were…“What the hell?” Fíli’s were missing.

Sigrid climbed out of bed and pulled her phone from her jeans. No new messages. “What the _hell?”_ It was 2:35 am and still snowing. Surely he hadn’t gone home, that would be foolish. She had been sure their night together had been wonderful. Well, she hadn’t heard any complaints at the time! So why wouldn’t he want to stay with her?

She pulled on a pair of pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt, stepped into her slippers, and headed towards the rooms where Fíli’s security staff were staying. Had he just not wanted to sleep next to her? Had she snored, or kicked him, or otherwise driven him away? Those options, while mortifying, were infinitely preferable to the idea that he had just up and left her in the middle of the night. 

The hallways were dim, illuminated only by small nightlights plugged into outlets every twenty feet or so. Sigrid padded quietly down, counting the doors sitting slightly ajar until she came to four in a row, closed off for the night. One for each of his staff. Fíli was still here, somewhere, unless she had drastically misjudged the relationship between him and Bragga. The thought of the two in bed together made her snort with amusement, but her smile quickly faded. Where had he gone? Sigrid had a bathroom en suite, he wouldn’t have needed to go looking for another.

Rather than continue creeping in the hallway, Sigrid opted to head towards the kitchen. A cup of tea would calm her. As she turned the corner towards the kitchen, however, bright white light flooded out of the doorway. Music was playing with a slightly tinny quality, and someone with a deep voice was humming along.

“Fíli?” she called, stepping into the kitchen and blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light. “What are you doi–”

Fíli was in his shirt and slacks again, though the sleeves of his button-down were rolled up past his elbows and he had found an apron to cover most of his front. He had thrown his hair back in an uncharacteristically messy bun, and when Sigrid moved around the island to see what he was up to, she discovered that he was barefoot. His back was to her, and he didn’t seem to have heard her through his humming. 

He bent over, giving her a great view of the grey slacks stretched across his ass as he searched for something in the cupboards. When he righted himself he held an electric hand mixer. Deft hands plugged it in and attached the beaters to the motor, and he turned it on to mix together whatever it was he had decided to make. Sigrid could barely hide her giggle as he let the aluminum bowl spin on the counter under the power of the beaters. He was so immersed in what he was doing, so focused and yet so soft. All the hard edges he had shown her when first they met were melted down, whether by the late hour or the comfort of cooking, and Sigrid hated to break the tableau.

“Hey Fí?” she asked again. 

“Aagh!” He jumped and clutched at his chest, spilling sugar all over the counter and the floor. “Dammit, Sig,” he gasped, and the measuring cup clattered down into the sink. He turned the music off and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “You startled me.” 

“I’m sorry,” she giggled. “I didn’t mean to.” Sigrid reached over to the sink and wet a washcloth so she could start wiping up the mess she’d helped create. “You got me first though,” she chided from the floor. “It’s two-thirty in the damn morning, Fí, and I wake up and you aren’t there? What’s a girl to think?”

He winced, sweeping the dry sugar off the countertop into the sink. “I’m sorry. I, uh. I had a nightmare, couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Oh, Fí, you could have woken me up, you could have told me.”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “You looked so peaceful… I didn’t want to– It’s not a big deal. Anyway, I started thinking about your sister’s party again, and I figured I might as well get started on the most important part.”

Sigrid stood and sniffed the air. Now that she was concentrating she could smell warm vanilla and butter wafting from the oven against the far wall. “Cake? You made Tilly a cake at two in the morning. You know her birthday isn’t for a month, right?”

“Well, now it’s three in the morning, but yes. I’m working on fillings now, and figured I would let it all cool while I slept, if I could sleep, and we could put them together and frost them in the morning. She can tell me which one she likes the best, and then I can make a full-sized one for the big day.”

“Fíli…” He had really worried her, and the idea that he would rather find her kitchen and stress-bake than talk to her worried her further. But he looked peaceful now and so soft, with small pieces of hair falling out of the bun to frame his face, the space under his eyes slightly dark with lack of sleep, but his smile for her still so warm. How could she be mad at him?

In fact the emotion she was feeling at that moment was so far from anger, it startled her with its ferocity. Her heart swelled and the threat of tears prickled in her nose. How had she found herself someone like this? Someone who had a horrible dream and couldn’t sleep, so he made her sister three different birthday cakes a month early? Someone whose genuine idea of a good time was to help her suss out work problems, and then plan a party for two hundred guests? Someone who smiled just at the thought of making her or her family happy?

She took another step towards him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and kissed him gently. “How can I help?”

The smile Fíli gave her was so bright it could have powered the entire city. “Well, I’m already mostly done with lemon cream but you could start hulling strawberries.”

“We have strawberries?”

“You have _everything._ My compliments to your staff, honestly, I couldn’t believe how much I found.”

“All... righty then,” Sigrid said, and dug the strawberries out of the refrigerator. She got to work to the left of the sink while Fíli worked on the right. He turned the music back on and before long both of them were singing along to some rock music popular back when her Da was a teenager. Sigrid remembered that Fíli had been alive back then too. Strangely, the thought didn’t bother her much. They had so much in common, not just likes and dislikes but also their stage in life. They were both young adults, so far as their cultures were concerned, and heirs to young kingdoms. Their whole lives would be dedicated to public service whether they liked it or not. 

The idea sounded a lot easier to manage when she imagined him by her side.

Working together in the kitchen felt just as natural as anything else they did, and Sigrid realized that it had been ages since she’d properly baked anything. She could see why Fíli turned to the kitchen when he couldn’t sleep.

“Thank you for getting up to help me,” he said once he was confident everything was ready for the morning. “I have to say it was much more relaxing having you with me.”

Sigrid stacked all the dishes next to the dishwasher, turned off the oven, and took Fíli’s hand. “I’m glad. But now you need to get back to bed, or Tilly’s going to wake up first and eat them all before you can finish them.”

Fíli opened his mouth to answer, but a yawn overtook him. He nodded in a vague sort of way. “Yes, you’re probably right.” He removed his apron and folded it over the back of a chair, then took her hand and followed Sigrid out of the kitchen, back down the hall, and into her bedroom. 

“You silly dwarf,” she tutted as she unbuttoned his shirt for him. Splatters of cake batter had evaded the apron here and there, dotting the white cotton with yellow. “You’re a mess.”

“And you’re so perfectly tidy?” Fíli reached out and swiped a bit of red jelly off her cheek. “I think not, Your Highness,” he grinned, and smeared it over the tip of her nose.

“Hey!” But Sigrid’s protests were no use. Fíli sucked the extra sweetness off his finger, the corners of his eyes crinkling in delighted satisfaction. “Shit-head,” she muttered, and went to the bathroom to wash her face off.

When Sigrid came back he had shed his shirt and was unbuckling his belt. Sigrid paused in the doorway to admire the sight. Would she ever get tired of the fuzzy curls on his chest, or the sharp line of his clavicle giving way to strong shoulders? Fíli stepped out of his pants and folded them and his shirt on her desk chair just like before. “C’mon, pretty Sigrid, into bed. You’re tired too.”

“No thanks to you.” 

They climbed under the covers, and Sigrid situated herself so she could lay her head on his shoulder. He pressed his mouth to her hair in a long, possessive, familiar kiss, and the last thing she heard before she fell back asleep was his quiet whisper. “G’night, ghivashel.”

~*~

Sigrid’s alarm trilled from the bedside table. She smacked it until it stopped making noise, then brought it up to her face. Groaning, she pushed at Fíli’s shoulder. “Hey Mr. Over-Achiever, it’s time to finish what you’ve started.”

Fíli sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. His wavy hair was an absolute mess, flattened on one side and sticking up on the other. He pushed his fingers through it gingerly, then grimaced, pulled a hair binder off his wrist, and pulled it all back into another sloppy bun. “All right,” he grunted, and smacked his lips. “Coffee first. Then cake.”

“That I can do.” 

They put the cakes together and frosted them, though Fíli did eventually push her gently aside so he could pipe the buttercream roses just so. Bain arrived and went straight for the carafe of coffee, and eventually even Bragga and the rest of Fíli’s security staff found their way to kitchen as well. Together, Bain and Sigrid whipped up scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and more coffee for everyone, while constantly waving Fíli back into his seat and poking fun at each other. 

“Honestly, Sig, you can’t invite people over on the cook’s day off, it’s just mean to everyone involved.”

“Well I dare say it’s about time you did a little cooking yourself. After all, who fed you all those years before your stroke of good fortune?”

It wasn’t terribly surprising that Tilda was the last to wake up and make her way to the kitchen for breakfast. She was in the throes of teenage-dom, after all, and with no younger siblings to care for she had no reason to get out of bed before she wanted to, especially on the weekend. Yet Sigrid would be lying if she said she didn’t get a little thrill out of the squeak of surprise Tilda gave when she saw seven other people in the kitchen waiting for her.

“What the heck are you all doing here?!”

“Surprise!” Bain joked. “Fíli stayed the night and made you early birthday cakes!”

“Hey, I helped,” Sigrid protested. “But seriously, Tilly, why don’t you try them? Whichever one you like the best we’ll make for your party.”

“Cake for breakfast? You don’t have to ask me twice,” Tilda said. She had wrapped a robe around herself and woven her hair into a loose braid down her back. It was getting so long now, when had that happened?

Fíli cut Tilda a slice of each cake. “Strawberry filling with vanilla frosting, lemon filling with vanilla and blueberries, and of course, chocolate.”

Tilda solemnly and judiciously took a healthy bite of each one, taking a drink of water in between. “Well, Fíli, these are all _really_ good. But I have to say, my favorite one is…” She held onto it for a moment, relishing in the assembly’s rapt attention. “Lemon blueberry.”

Once the verdict was issued, Bain jumped forward to start slicing cake for everybody. Bragga and his crew stood up and swarmed the kitchen island, offering their plates for a slice of whatever came up first. Fíli was nodding at Tilda, assuring her that he would do his best to recreate the cake on her big day. Sigrid had to call above the din to make sure Bain saved some for Da, but soon enough everyone had quieted again, mouths too full of cake to make conversation.

Fíli and Sigrid stood close to each other in the corner by the coffee maker, watching everyone eat and relishing in the feeling of a job well done. But it wasn’t long before Bragga stood up, brought his plate to the sink, and approached the couple. “Your Highness,” he said quietly. “By all accounts the roads have been cleared after the night’s storms. The sun’s out, and with the salt on the roads everything’s looking dry. You…” A frown flicked across his face, obviously hating to be the bearer of bad news. “You have a meeting this afternoon with–” 

“With the King, yes,” Fíli sighed. “That’s right. You’re right. We’ll need to get going soon.”

“Aww,” Tilda whined. “Already?”

“Hush, Tilly,” Sigrid said. “You know how it is. C’mon, Fí, let’s get you your clothes.”

“Bragga, get everyone together and the cars started. I’ll be back down in five.”

Sigrid shut the door behind them when they reached her bedroom. He reached out to her, and she took his hand. When he pulled her close to him, she took his cheek in her free hand and kissed him firmly. They didn’t have time to dance around and tease each other, they only had a few short minutes left and neither of them wanted to waste time. 

Fíli licked into her mouth in sure strokes, his hand sliding around her waist to rest just above the swell of her ass. Each movement of his mouth was a heated reminder of their activities last night, and Sigrid’s head was spinning as she tried to keep up. Her fingers skimmed along the curve of his ear, twisting in the tiny hairs that escaped the binder, and she pressed her body along the length of his, trying to get as close as possible to him before he had to go.

But it was over too soon. He pulled away from her with a final, chaste kiss and a melancholy smile. “I have to get changed,” he said as if it were an apology. Sigrid sat on the bed and watched him with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. “I’ll call you when I get home,” he added, belt buckle clinking as he pulled the length of leather back through the loops. “Then we can figure out when we can get together again.”

“I’m extremely busy the next couple of weeks,” Sigrid sighed. “I have to get everything for the party nailed down, I have about thirty health care meetings, and then I’m accompanying Da to Edoras for a few days. But we’ll find something.”

“Yes, we will.” He finished buttoning up his shirt and put his phone and wallet into his pockets. “Even if it’s just a video-date.” Fíli took her hands in his and looked her straight in the eyes. “It’s going to be all right, Sig. I’m only ever a phone call away.” He kissed her again and opened the door. “Unless I’m late for my meeting with Thorin, in which case I’ll never be permitted to speak to you again, so.” He shrugged, and Sigrid rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said. “Get out of here.” And with a final push, she sent him out of her room and off to his car.

~*~

The next month went by in a blur. She had managed to use her time in Edoras productively, gaining at least a verbal assurance that Rohan would lower their embargo on Dalish seafood and wheat. Other meetings had to be held with ambassadors in Dale, however, and garnered her much less certainty of the final outcome of her healthcare initiative. She had successfully landed caterers and event staff for Tilda’s birthday party, though, all the invitations had been sent out and very nearly all of the RSVPs returned. 

Sigrid had been busy, and it seemed that every time she had a free day, Fíli was called on to do something halfway across Arda. It was as if the universe were conspiring against them. Sigrid and Fíli had time for one proper date the entire month, but they were so tired and missed each other so badly that all they did was lie in Fíli’s bed, watch movies and fool around. 

Tilda had discovered in her monthly issue of _Arda Today_ that someone had figured out Fíli and Sigrid’s affinity for Bombur’s restaurant and snapped a grainy photograph of them kissing outside on the night of the snowstorm. Big puffy flakes obscured their figures somewhat, but the paparazzo had had good equipment. It was clearly them. A bright green headline proclaimed: _Elf Prince on the Outs? Princess Sigrid Seen Smooching Prince Fíli Outside North Dale Restaurant._

Both Legolas and Tauriel heard the news too, and both sent condolences in their own way.

_**Tauriel:** God, paps are the WORST!!! I’m so sorry babe, lmk if you need to talk okay?_

_**~*~Legs for Days~*~:** You couldn’t even break up with me by text, you had to do it by gossip mag?? Hurtful._  
_**~*~Legs for Days~*~:** I’ll be sure to dump my drink on you at Tilda’s birthday party or something. Might as well sell it, you slut. XOXO_

Sigrid was devastated. Sure the photograph was innocent enough, but now they could never go back to the Iron Ladle without a swarm of paparazzi snapping away any sense of privacy she’d been able to cultivate. Hopefully Bombur’s business wouldn’t be affected too badly. And honestly, weren’t there more important issues in the world to worry about besides whom she was smooching? Like lowering the cost of prescription drugs or demilitarizing the Dagorlad or _something,_ anything!

Fíli had been sure it would all die down, but she had invited _Arda Today_ for an exclusive on Tilly’s birthday. What was going to stop them from focusing on Sigrid’s relationship status instead of the party? The day was supposed to be about Tilda, and Sigrid was determined to make it so. Fíli had arrived the day before to make the cake, so Sigrid forced him to leave early in the morning so he could re-arrive along with Kíli and King Thorin. There was no way she would admit to a magazine that Fíli had stayed the night, even if it were a forty-three-bedroom palace.

Everything else, though, went off without a hitch. Staff arrived and began setting up tables in the large dining room, catering started wheeling carts full of food into the kitchen, balloons were inflated, pitchers were filled, and in the back corner a young man in a black tuxedo shirt and bow tie started setting up a bar. Dagní had very nearly everyone on the security staff working today, either up at the gates screening cars or inside the palace ensuring no one went wandering. Sigrid had found herself a lovely dark blue dress that had lace sleeves to the elbow and a skirt that fell above the knee. Bain was in slacks and a tie, and as the official host of the afternoon Bard wore a suit jacket, though no one could convince him to wear the tie. 

Once Sigrid was sure that she could trust her da to supervise the last bits of set-up, she retreated to Tilda’s room to help her get ready. This would be Tilda’s first public appearance as a young lady, and she had picked out a beautiful dress to reflect that. It was the first floor-length dress she’d ever worn, a soft pink sleeveless thing with a straight skirt and, of course, a high neckline - Bard’s only requirement for his youngest daughter. 

“I can’t get my eyeliner right, Siggy,” she said tearfully when Sigrid entered her room. Her eyes were red, whether from crying or from scrubbing her makeup off, Sigrid couldn’t be sure. “I’ve tried a million times!” 

“All right, let me see,” Sigrid tutted. “I’ll fix you up.”

With the pressure taken off her, Tilda brightened up quickly and started chatting about her party, the food they'd eat, the guests she expected, the gifts she hoped for. Sigrid let the words wash over her as she worked. Tilda hardly needed any input, and it was taking Sigrid’s mind off of worrying about anything besides the right shade of blush. At least, it worked for a little while. 

“...and I saw the cake Fíli made. It's even better than the sample one! I can't wait to tell everyone that he’s the baker.”

Sigrid blanched. “Could you not? _Arda Today_ is already going to be on my ass about our kiss outside The Iron Ladle, I really don’t need them knowing about him staying the night.”

“Fine,” Tilda pouted. “But Da always told us never to lie.” 

“You’re a smart girl,” Sigrid said, dusting a translucent setting powder over Tilda’s face. “You’ll figure something out. Now put on that lippy and get into your dress. It’s almost time for the guests to arrive.”

Naturally the palace photographer and the group from _Arda Today_ had already set up shop, which was fine with Sigrid because it saved her the trouble of deciding where she, Bain and Bard should receive the guests. Tilda would get a grand entrance once the majority of people arrived, a Dalish tradition to introduce a new young man or woman to society. Dagní signalled to Bard, who nodded, and delegates from Dale’s new aristocracy began to file in. Several were other young ladies from Tilda’s school, who greeted Sigrid and Bain politely but kept to themselves near the snacks while they waited for Tilda to arrive.

Despite the joke in his earlier text message, Legolas greeted her warmly with a hug and kiss on her cheek. Thranduil curiously held her Da in a handshake a bit longer than was strictly required, but no one but Bain and her seemed to notice. Faramir and his elder brother Boromir were in attendance as well, and Sigrid smiled when Faramir immediately crossed the entire room to greet Éowyn, and stuck to her side for the rest of the afternoon. She was glad they had found each other - maybe she’d ask if Fíli wanted to double-date with them. King Thorin arrived at a fashionable three-quarters of the way through the guest list, Princes Kíli and Fíli in tow. 

Sigrid’s heart raced when she saw him, and she had to really focus on keeping her facial expressions in check. He wore a tailored waistcoat with a long tie, and the lack of jacket somehow only accentuated the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowing of his waist. His hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and Sigrid could see braids and beads tucked among the locks as well. Kíli looked fine too, she supposed, and Thorin too if one looked past the stoicism.

“Princess Sigrid,” Fíli murmured when it was finally her turn to greet him. “Good to see you again.”

“Prince Fíli,” she answered. She wrapped him in the same friendly hug she’d given Legolas, and he kissed her cheek in what surely appeared to be the same platonic familiarity.

Yet before he pulled away, he surreptitiously looked around and whispered, “I’ve been thinking about those legs you’re showing off today. How they’d feel wrapped around my hips as I–”

“Indeed!” Sigrid interrupted, perhaps a bit too loudly. Fíli stepped back and gave her the faintest smirk. The heat that rose on her cheeks would have been a dead give-away to anyone paying attention, but she had caked her makeup on that morning quite purposefully. Still, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from stomping on his foot in retaliation. “It’s been too long. I do hope you’ll enjoy your visit. Drinks are in the corner, gift table is opposite.” As Fíli turned to follow her instructions, she added, “Don’t be a stranger.”

He waved over his shoulder to show that he’d heard her, and Sigrid returned to her task. Another wave of people arrived, including another group of duchesses, countesses, barons, and other young aristocracy around Tilly’s age. When the first group saw them, they greeted the new girls with a chorus of squeals. Sigrid ducked her head to hide her smile, remembering her own gleeful screech-filled days. She happily shook hand after hand, kissed cheek after cheek, until finally more or less everyone had arrived. Bard strode to the front of the room to formally welcome everyone, and Sigrid retreated to the bar.

Fíli was waiting for her with a glass of white wine. Sigrid whispered her thanks, scanning the room for any evidence of plans gone awry. But everything was fine. Everyone had a snack and a drink, no one was sitting by themselves, conversation was flowing freely. Parents, guardians and chaperones sat on one side chatting while they kept their eyes on the teenagers on the other splintering off into smaller groups and couples. It was a good party, she just hoped it would last. 

“Relax, Princess,” Fíli murmured. “Everything’s going perfectly. You’ve done a splendid job, and when everyone’s gone home I plan to reward you for all that hard work.” He scanned the room once more before he covered her hand that was resting on the bar and rubbed his thumb in teasing circles. “Slowly. Methodically. Thoroughly.”

Sigrid’s ears heated red and she took a sip of wine to hide her grin. She licked the tart flavor from her lips and tilted her head back and forth. “You know, for someone so worried about royal appearances and propriety and such, you seem quite intent on making me blush.”

“Me? Never.”

“In any case, Your Highness, your assistance was instrumental in ensuring such a success. It’s only right that I should thank _you_. Slowly. Methodically. Thoroughly. And with teeth.”

Fíli raised his eyebrows and took his turn sipping his drink to stifle a reaction. “Very well then,” he muttered. The two of them fell silent as someone walked past, and they turned to watch the crowd again. Thranduil and Legolas sat with Tauriel and Kíli at the front of the room. Thorin was there too, eyes shooting daggers at his oblivious nephew. Percy and Hilda-Bianca had claimed a table for Dale and were listening with misty eyes as Bard recounted Tilda’s childhood. The gift table was overflowing already, and every so often a new person would sneak in and carefully add another to the precarious tower. 

Finally Tilda entered the room to a round of applause, polite from the adults and quite enthusiastic from her friends. From this distance she looked so incredibly adult, standing tall and poised and perfect, her hair falling loose in an elegant wave over one shoulder. It had happened. Her baby sister had grown up. Sigrid wrinkled her nose and looked up at the ceiling in an effort to stay her tears. 

“She’s beautiful,” Fíli murmured. He put his arm loosely around her waist and Sigrid sank into it for a moment, forgetting herself. The solid warmth of him standing next to her was a welcome comfort despite the fact that her high-heeled shoes put her significantly taller than him. Yet the sound of a camera’s shutter snapping brought her quickly back to reality and she took a step away. 

“I won’t forget about what you said earlier, by the way,” she muttered as they watched Tilda make her rounds through the maze of tables, hugging everyone enthusiastically. “I hope you’re prepared for a long night.” 

“On the contrary, I’m quite looking forward to it,” he answered out of the corner of his mouth. When she looked over at him, he winked and she elbowed him as discreetly as she could manage. Then she spun on her heel and took herself and her wine as far away from Fíli’s wicked mouth as possible.

The party continued on for hours. Everyone complimented the cake, but Tilda had taken Sigrid’s warning seriously and managed not to spill the beans. She loved holding court like this. When Tilda announced it was time for her to open presents, all her friends gathered around her, eager to see her face when she discovered the treasure she’d been given. Tilda practically preened, hamming it up every second. _Arda Today_ kept themselves busy snapping candids of all the guests, and Sigrid kept herself too far away to be nailed down for an interview. 

She worked the room carefully, making sure to spend approximately the same amount of time with each guest. She chatted with Tauriel and Kíli, Legolas and Thranduil, Faramir and Éowyn, figuring that if she paid attention to the “grown-ups” then Tilda could have more guilt-free fun with people her age. Yet every so often she found herself close enough to Fíli that they could whisper to each other as they passed.

“I hope you’re prepared to put that tie of yours to a different use.”

“If you keep those shoes on for me I can think of plenty of ways to take advantage of them.”

“How fast do you think I can get you out of all those layers?”

“I daresay I needn’t bother at all with yours. You’d look absolutely stunning with your skirt rucked up around your waist.”

The game drove Sigrid absolutely mad, and she found herself on more than one occasion sitting with her legs crossed tightly in an effort to relieve the distracting throb of arousal. When people finally started to take their leave, Sigrid gratefully ushered them out to the door. On its face, it seemed like a very hostess-type thing to do. However it also allowed her the chance to send Kíli and Thorin on their way, and direct Fíli elsewhere. 

“Lovely seeing you again,” she said, embracing him warmly. Then she dipped her mouth to his ear and whispered quickly, “Drive around for a bit, then take the Erebor flags off your car and come ‘round the back to the garage. They’ll let you in.” She kissed both of his cheeks in a friendly, diplomatic way for the cameras, and squeezed his hands one last time. “Have a nice evening!”

Next to her, Tilda bade farewell to every guest, thanking them as graciously as any princess should. When the room was empty of everyone but her family, she slumped back against Sigrid with a sigh. “Finally,” she groaned. “It was fun dressing up and stuff but it’s really hard to move around in this dress! Also my entire face itches. Can I go change, and wash my face off?”

Bard smiled sympathetically, his own suit jacket long-gone. “Of course. It’s your day, you can spend the rest of it in your pajamas with all your new presents if you want.

“Yess!” Tilda whispered, and bolted off to her bedroom as fast as her high heels would carry her.

Sigrid followed eagerly. Dagní tried to grab her attention on the other side of the doorway, but she waved her off with a mumbled apology. She was exhausted, and eager to return to Fíli’s arms. Never had the walk from the formal dining room to her bedroom seemed so long, but this time the hallways stretched in front of her for what seemed like miles. Tilda reached her room first and shut the door, wordlessly. Sigrid plodded on a couple doors further down until at long last she reached her own room and slipped inside.

Fíli had beaten her there. He had spread out on the bed, shoes off and tie pulled open, and apparently had been passing the time waiting for her by palming his dick through the fabric of his slacks. “Hello, pretty Sigrid,” he said with a smirk, and all of Sigrid’s exhaustion flowed out of her, replaced by a deep, pulsing want. And now there was no longer any reason to deny it, no longer any curious onlookers for whom they had to perform a carefully nonchalant acquaintance. There was just the two of them, alone at last.

“Hello,” Sigrid answered. She closed the door behind her with a click and turned the lock without even looking. Then, finally, she fell into bed beside him and surrendered to his touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	11. The Time is Now

There was nothing else Sigrid could do. She had arranged meeting after meeting, urged for concessions and treaties and lowering of embargos. She had prepared statements and delivered them to the press. She had wined and dined and lunched and brunched every member of the council that had ever voted ‘No’ on her bill. Her committee had testified in front of the assembly for several days’ worth of hearings. They were all exhausted, and now there was nothing else she could do.

She sat up in the gallery, knee bouncing anxiously as she watched staffers hand out the final version of the bill to all the council members on the floor. Hilda-Bianca sat to one side of her, Fíli on the other. She held both of their hands tightly as the chairman announced the bill. One man called for the vote, another seconded it. Discussion began, and Percy, who had been the only council member on their committee, reminded everyone of the nationwide benefits that everyone would reap. He went on to describe all the ways the bill would be paid for besides taxes, including treaties with Rohan, Mirkwood, and Erebor. Several heads nodded along, and Sigrid found herself daring to hope that the bill might actually pass.

“Well aren’t you proud of yourself now,” asked a snivelling voice behind her.

A chill ran down Sigrid’s spine as she turned to look at him. “Alfrid.”

He stood on a step above her, hands clasped in front of his chest, head held slightly forward in a misleadingly servile gesture. “You know, I tried to get onto your committee for months. But _Percy_ wouldn’t let me in the door.”

“Damned right,” Hilda-Bianca bristled.

“Sigrid,” Fíli said in her ear, “do I need to call Dagní?”

“I even went to your little party last weekend,” Alfrid added, voice getting louder with every word. “I assumed my invitation was lost in the mail but alas.” He threw up his hands helplessly. “That half-height bitch turned her dogs on me and a bunch of suits ran me off the property.”

Sigrid’s eyes widened. So _that’s_ what Dagní had wanted. He must have shown up right at the end. Well it was a credit to her and her staff that no one had at all been disturbed. “Alfrid,” she warned, putting an edge on her quiet voice, “you’re going to disrupt the assembly. Leave now.”

He looked down his nose at her and sneered. “I know all about you. I’ve known you since you were just a soggy deck rat swabbing for your father. You can’t order me around.”

Fíli and Hilda-Bianca both jumped to her feet, but Hilda-Bianca spoke first, wagging her finger at Alfrid. “She can and she will, Alfrid Lickspittle. Now you go find yourself another place to sit that bony arse, or we’ll find a bunch of suits to help ya.”

Sigrid’s cheeks burned as she twisted her hands in her lap. This whole thing was so utterly embarrassing. She thought that once she became actual royalty she’d be done with the man, and instead he’d set in like a grease stain intent on sullying her every victory. Fíli still stood at her side, arms crossed over his chest, looking as serious and immovable as the statues protecting his kingdom.

Alfrid pursed his lips. “Don’t forget, _Princess._ I _know_ you. And while you might not appreciate what I have to offer, I’m sure I’ll find someone who will.” He looked between the two of them pointedly. “You sure have a type when choosing a guard dog. I’ll take my leave before you sic them on me.”

He turned and left the gallery, and when Sigrid turned to Fíli he was seething. “Oh, someone oughtta knock him down a peg or two,” he ground out through a locked jaw.

“Plenty of us have tried, dear,” Hilda-Bianca sighed, settling back into her seat next to Sigrid. “Yet he keeps on climbin’. It’d be inspiring if he weren’t such a piece of dung.”

“How could he talk to you like that?” Fíli asked, shifting his weight between his legs in lieu of pacing in the tiny space. “Has he no respect for the title you hold? Or the political process going on right now in the assembly? You could have him thrown in jail, or–”

“No I couldn’t,” Sigrid tutted, pulling him back down to his seat. “And the way you’re carrying on, you’re going to be just as disruptive. He’s just an asshole,” she shrugged. “And they’re almost done down there.”

Down in the assembly a motion ended discussion and the voting began. This was the moment she had worked so hard for, and she tried her best to shake Alfrid from her mind. She had to pay attention to the way people voted - sure there would be a record of who went which way, but she wanted to see their faces as they denied her dream. That way she could get back to work on changing their minds. One by one votes trickled in. A group of five would vote yea all in a row, then ten would vote against. A few abstained. Sigrid held her breath as one by one the names on the board lit up either green or red, yea or nay. The board behind the chairman would have been pretty, if so much hadn’t been on the line. It was over in the blink of an eye.

“The bill passes,” the councilman said into the microphone. “Next up we have…” 

But Sigrid didn’t hear the rest of the announcement, she just stared at the board in awe. Hilda-Bianca had jumped to her feet, clapping her hands with no care for decorum, hugging the rest of the committee members and anyone else who happened to be in arm’s reach. Fíli was standing as well; he put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her temple, and it took Sigrid several moments to realize he was speaking to her.

“I’m so proud of you,” he was saying. “You worked so hard for so long and you did it! Congratulations, ghivashel!”

“Th-Thanks,” she said weakly, the sense of relief so overwhelming she could hardly feel her legs.

Nevertheless Hilda-Bianca hauled her to her feet and encased her in a bear hug. “We did it, Little Miss!” she exclaimed, using the endearment she’d chosen for Sigrid long before she’d become royalty. “It’s over, we did it!”

“We did,” Sigrid answered, a smile finally spreading across her face. “We did it!”

Hilda-Bianca nodded. “And now it’s time to celebrate!” The other committee members cheered and followed her down the hallway, but Fíli held Sigrid back.

“So how would you like to go to dinner with me then? Maybe at _Deco?”_

“But that’s downtown.What about ‘ _keeping our private life private’?_ We’re bound to be recognized there.”

“Yes,” he admitted, “but the secret of Bombur’s is out, and _Arda Today_ got enough pictures of us at Tilly’s party to keep the rumor mills turning. We may as well. If the paparazzi come, they come. But who knows, we might get lucky.” 

Sigrid hesitated, but Fíli took both her hands in his. “Come on. You deserve it.”

“All right,” she said at last. “Let’s tell Dagní.”

It took about two hours for the staff of both Dale and Erebor to sweep and secure the restaurant. Once that was done, Bragga and Fíli insisted on taking a long, meandering route through the city in an effort to disguise their final destination. When they finally arrived, the manager shooed everyone else out of the way so he could lead them to their table. He handed them menus and assured them that staff would do everything in their power to make sure Fíli and Sigrid had a wonderful meal, then swept away to ensure it would be true.

Sigrid had noticed the conversation dying down, the eyes following them as table after table recognized who they were. Then came the inevitable swell of whispers as the restaurant-goers confirmed their suspicions and dared each other to approach royalty. She didn’t blame them, exactly. Bard had made access to the royal family fairly difficult in an effort to protect his children, and here she was in the flesh. She’d hoped that a gourmet restaurant would bring with it a more discreet clientele, but apparently people were people no matter how much they paid for their meal.

“It seems we’ve been found out,” Sigrid muttered as a cell phone’s flash went off. “It’s like being an exhibit at the zoo.”

Fíli grimaced. “Bragga will deal with it, don’t worry. I know it’s hard, but we have to just ignore them.” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Think about what you’d like to eat instead.”

She scanned the menu idly, too distracted by the tingling sensation on the back of her neck that confirmed she was being watched. Every time she would look up, she noticed a phone in someone’s hand. Table after table, someone had their phone out. Half of them weren’t even pointed towards her table, their owners just idly scrolling as they waited for their food to arrive, but still she couldn’t shake the feeling that they had been playing paparazzi just a moment before. 

The restaurant’s resident expert approached their table and offered her help selecting a wine, and though Sigrid would never suggest alcohol as a coping mechanism, she had to admit her whole body relaxed the second the tart liquid hit her lips. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

Fíli nodded as well as the woman filled their glasses, then gave an aborted little bow. “My absolute pleasure, Your Highness,” she said, and slipped away. 

“So what are you going to do now that you’ve got your bill through?” Fíli asked once they were alone again. 

“Well, Da still needs to sign the bill–”

“Which he will,” Fíli tutted. “Obviously.”

“Even so,” Sigrid said with a smile. “It’s not done yet. There are clinics to build and new hospitals to staff. The bill turned our committee into a proper agency, so we might get a few more people on board…” She paused for a moment, took a sip of wine. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay on, actually,” she admitted. “It’s one thing to just be an advocate for a cause, but it’s another for a member of the royal family to become employed by a government agency.”

“It is,” he admitted. “I’m sure they’ll find ways for you to stay involved. But that wasn’t what I meant.” At Sigrid’s questioning look, he put his chin against his chest and smiled to himself, then looked back up into her eyes and asked, “I mean, have you even considered taking some time off?”

“I…” She hadn’t. It had never crossed her mind. As long as she’d lived, Sigrid had never really had “Time Off,” so why would she start now?

Their server arrived to take their food order, providing Sigrid with a welcome, if momentary, distraction. With the menu out of the way, however, Fíli only leaned forward to ask again. 

“Haven’t you ever thought about it? I mean, Mahal’s beard, you’re always talking about work, always thinking about work, but what about a vacation? If you could go to anywhere in Arda, where would you go?”

The answer was on her lips before she could even properly think about it. “Bree.”

Fíli arched an eyebrow. “Bree?”

“Yes,” she answered, her cheeks warming. “Growing up I always thought it sounded so charming - hobbits and men living together at the crossroads of two major highways, all that pretty green open farmland in the rolling hills of the South Downs… We didn’t have anything like that anywhere around Lake Town, and of course we never travelled, so everything sounded more quaint than it probably was. Even the River Running sounded harsh and unforgiving compared to _the Brandywine.”_

“Well,” Fíli laughed, “I suppose so. We went through Bree on our way to Erebor from Ered Luin, you know.”

“Was it lovely?”

“It was… Rainy. Though I’m sure if we had had time, and good weather, we would have found it perfectly nice.”

Sigrid narrowed her eyes. “You’re being _diplomatic._ ”

“I just don’t want to tell you how to think! You should go there yourself and develop your own opinions.”

“Is that an invitation?”

Fíli’s eyes twinkled over the rim of his wine glass. “Just say when.”

It was a nice idea. The only trips she had ever been on had been diplomatic ones with her father. Going away somewhere without her family was at once terrifying and thrilling. Fíli would be a good travel partner though. He’d done much more of it in his life so he would know how to prepare, and they never ran out of things to talk about so the journey itself would be as enjoyable as the destination. The more she considered the possibility, the more she wanted to do it. Yet as the heir to the throne of the newest kingdom of men, she would probably have to talk to Dagní about it first. Surely she could make it happen, if only Sigrid asked sweetly enough. 

Fíli held her hand loosely in his as they spoke, only letting go once their food arrived. Sigrid found she’d completely forgotten about everyone else in the restaurant. Instead, Fíli had her laughing, thinking about far-off vacations and the kind of beautiful future the two of them might have if everything only ever went right. It was a perfect evening, or at least it was right up until her secret service agent swept out of the shadows to intercept an approaching teenager.

“Princess Sigrid!” the girl called, standing on tip-toes to peer around the guard’s shoulders. “Can I just–”

“Miss, put your phone away right now and return to your table, or we’ll have to escort you and your family off the premises. Her Royal Highness is here for dinner, not for a meet-and-greet.”

Sigrid was about to stand up when Fíli took her hand again and squeezed it tightly. “Don’t look,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Let Sunna handle it.”

“Are you and Prince Fi– Ugh!” The girl tried to dodge Sunna’s arms but she wasn’t fast enough.

“I’m sorry, miss. You need to return to your table immediately.”

“But I just wanted to– Come _on!”_

Sigrid pursed her lips and stared at her plate. It was tempting to allow the girl to come forward, to say what she wanted to say. Yet Sigrid knew that if she did that, it would open the floodgates and suddenly she’d be in that restaurant for hours, taking pictures with every last patron. Fíli didn’t deserve that. _She_ didn’t deserve that.

The girl finally did as she was told and Sunna quietly returned to the background, but when the server asked if they wanted to order dessert, Sigrid had to say no. “I’m ready to go,” she said quietly. 

“All right,” Fíli murmured. “Let’s get out of here.” They paid the bill and thanked the server for a lovely time, but before they could get up from the table, Bragga approached and whispered in Fíli’s ear. He closed his eyes and sighed, then nodded. “Do it.”

Bragga left, and Sigrid frowned. “What is it?”

“Someone - or more likely, several someones - posted their grainy cell phone photos of us online. Paps caught the scent.” He stood up and pulled his coat on with a brusque efficiency.

“Damn it,” she groaned, and lazily stood up to put her own coat on. “And we were having such a good day, too. So what’s the plan? We leave in separate cars, I head home and you–”

“Face it, Sig, there’s no use pretending anymore.” He took her hand and led her back through the kitchen and out the back door. It let out into a damp alley with abandoned milk crates and half-extinguished cigarette butts lying everywhere. An overflowing dumpster shielded them from headlights at one end of the alley as clattering footsteps approached. “And what’s more, I don’t want to.”

Sigrid peered around the dumpster to find a half-dozen photographers trying desperately not to get in the way of their headlights, hoping to get some good pictures of the two of them leaving together. A large, black SUV rolled up to the other end of the alley, and Fíli’s car pulled up right behind it. Four agents, including the driver of Fíli’s car, filed out and headed down to engage the paparazzi. “Don’t want to... what?” she asked, looking back at him.

“I don’t want to pretend like I’m not in love with you.”

Sigrid blinked.

“Come on,” Fíli said, and darted out from behind the dumpster. Scores of flash-bulbs went off, momentarily blinding Sigrid as she endeavored to follow Fíli to their escape. The photographers called frantically after them, asking if they were dating, if they were engaged, if they had any statement to give at all. One particularly nimble hobbit managed to elude the secret service and caught up to them, running alongside them with a small audio recording device outstretched, spouting questions rapid-fire.

“How long have you been dating? Is this your first relationship since the Battle? How do you navigate your two very different cultures? What about the height difference, do you find it helps or hinders your, let’s call them _night time activities?”_

Sigrid tried to ignore them, but her arm yanked painfully behind her when Fíli stopped short. The hobbit skidded to a halt next to him and beamed. “I seem to have hit a nerve,” he said, and Fíli punched him.

“What the _fuck?!_ Fíli!” Sigrid cried as the hobbit stumbled back and put a hand to his jaw. “Come on, we have to go!” Bragga was running towards them now, waving for them to make for the car. 

Fíli shook the pain out of his hand, wincing as hundreds of shutter snaps echoed off the brick and asphalt. “He can’t just say shit like that and get away with it.”

Sigrid pulled at his hand again. “That’s what Bragga’s for, you idiot, let’s get going!”

She slid into the passenger seat as Fíli pulled the driver’s seat forward as far as it could go, raised the pedals, and adjusted all the mirrors, grumbling about only hiring dwarves in the future.

“What did you do that for?” she breathed, pushing her hair off her now-sweaty forehead. “You’re acting like…”

“Because I am,” Fíli continued for her. “In love with you. Perhaps this isn’t the most romantic way to say it for the first time, but it’s true, and it’s important. Let me love you, Sigrid.” He turned his body towards her and took her hand between both of his. “Let me kiss you, and let people see. The game we played at Tilda’s party was fun, but I don’t ever want to have to do it again. Be mine, Sig, but more importantly, let me be yours.”

“Fíli, I…” Sigrid swallowed thickly. “I don’t– I don’t know how to… Surely there’s some sort of procedure for this sort of thing, right? Or–” 

The SUV ahead of them honked twice and started moving, though Fíli didn’t put the car into gear. “They forced our hand,” Fíli said solemnly. “And I… well I know that punching that reporter didn’t really help things. But I know how I feel, Sig, and I’m done hiding it.” 

He fixed her with a look that meant so much more than his words could convey. It scared her. Was she ready to take this step? If this relationship went the distance, it would be complicated. Both of them were first in line for their respective thrones and neither kingdom would be excited at the prospect of losing an heir to the other. It would be messy. 

But he loved her, he’d said so himself, and she’d known ever since that night in her kitchen that she loved him too. She was overwhelmed with the intensity of it, yet at that moment, sitting in the car in some dank alleyway in the middle of the city, she didn’t know what to do. 

He stared into her eyes, searching for her answer, and she stared back until panic gave way to clarity. “Did you mean what you said?” she asked urgently.

“Yes, always.” 

“About Bree?”

“What? Um. Sure?”

“Let’s go, right now,” Sigrid said. “Let’s just drive. The whole way. Let’s see the world, tonight, just you and me and the road.”

“It’ll take all night. They’ll follow us.”

“Not if we’re careful. Fuck the paparazzi, fuck our secret service, fuck our responsibilities at least for a little while. Come on. I’m game if you are.”

Fíli considered it for a moment, then put the car in drive and pulled out in the opposite direction from the SUV. “All right, well, buckle up.”

The tires squealed as Fíli hit the gas and turned immediately off onto another road. Sigrid craned her neck to look behind them, and saw the SUV turning to follow though it was about half a mile behind already. Fíli turned again, and another time, making a bee-line through the streets of Dale until he finally found an entrance ramp to the highway.

“I can't believe we're doing this,” Sigrid gasped.

“Do you not want to? Because this was your idea.” Fíli looked up into the rear view mirror, then over his shoulder, then changed lanes.

“No, I meant it!” she answered, giggling. “This is amazing. Dagní’s gonna _kill_ me! ...keep going!”

“Well we won't find open road here for a while. I’m still not convinced we’ve lost them.” Sure enough, a few minutes later Fíli growled under his breath and started weaving in and around the other traffic on the road until he could take an exit. Eventually he returned to the highway, though he had to do some serious maneuvering before he was convinced they weren't being followed anymore.

“You did it,” Sigrid laughed once he set the cruise control and leaned back.

“Oh I'm sure they just gave up and activated the tracker in the car. Dagní’ll have one on your phone too, so, it's not like they won't catch up eventually. But at least they won't try to stop us for a while.” Fíli rolled the tension out of his shoulders, then put a hand on her thigh. “Let's see how far we get, hm?”

Sigrid switched her phone off, then took his from the center console and turned it off as well. “All right, Fíli Durinson. Bree or bust!”

They made it another hour before they had to stop for gas and a restroom break on the edge of Dale’s border with Mirkwood. A part of Sigrid wondered if Dagní would have someone waiting to sweep in and take them home, but no one bothered them. She felt completely out of place in her skirt suit and heels, but unfortunately the only clothing the small gas station had to offer was an oversized sweatshirt emblazoned with a garish dragon and “Dale University” in big block letters. Sigrid picked it up anyway, as well as a bottle of water and some sunglasses. She held her breath the entire time the young elf behind the cash register rang them up, but he barely looked them in the eyes, too tired or high or both to give a damn who they were. 

Then they were off again, driving into the forest as the sun dipped low behind the tree-tops. The only route through Mirkwood’s National Forest was a narrow two-lane road that wound around hills and alongside the river. The speed limit was lower there, both to protect wildlife and to reduce emissions, and when the sun finally set the light disappeared almost instantly. Fíli switched on the high beams, and the two of them started a game to see who could spot the critters on the side of the road first. Every so often they would see another trail leading off of the main road, usually with a sign that said “Restricted Access” in Sindarin and Common, and a chain strung across the path. Sigrid suggested the paths led to Thranduil’s secret properties, safe houses or treasure stashes or something even more scandalous, but Fíli was sure they were just access roads for the rangers that cared for the forest.

Finally they emerged from the forest into the floodplain of the Anduin, and Sigrid pressed her head against the cool glass of the window to peer up at the millions of stars that dotted the sky. “Don’t get skies like this in Dale,” she breathed.

“Nor Erebor,” Fíli agreed. “It’s beautiful.” He yawned and wiped his eyes, then looked over to Sigrid. “But I don’t think I can stay on the road much longer, Sig. We have to turn off for the night.”

“But where?”

“Wherever,” he shrugged. “The next exit. Not only do we need to get some rest, but we’ll need provisions too. Clothes, toothpaste, that kind of thing. Unless you want to live in that outfit for the next however-long.”

Sigrid pulled a face, then flipped down the sun visor to use the mirror and fix her hair. “Fine. But if someone stops me in a Kwikie-Mart and asks for a picture of me and my melted makeup, I blame you.”

The Kwikie-Mart was deserted at that time of night but open for business anyway. The lights in the parking lot flickered orange, joining with a drizzly rain to cast a strange aura over the scraggly bushes planted in the concrete islands, the cart sitting abandoned in the middle of the asphalt expanse, the fast food wrapper that never made it into the garbage can. Sigrid felt ridiculous in her black pumps and pencil skirt, but when she zipped the sweatshirt over her blouse it didn’t make her feel any better. Fíli didn’t bother to button his shirt back up over his undershirt, but at least that made him look handsomely dishevelled instead of like a four-year-old’s dress-up doll.

Together they wound through the aisles, picking up toiletries, spare clothes, new shoes, cell phone chargers and whatever snacks caught their fancy. Sigrid relished in the solitude. No one was gawking, no one was sneaking pictures, no one was judging her for grabbing the cheap corn chips instead of a vegetable. The only camera on them was a closed-circuit TV system that probably over-wrote itself every two hours. The cashier peered at them curiously, but didn’t say anything besides her rote greeting. Even as Sigrid swiped her card, the cashier silently handed their haul to them in poorly-packed plastic bags and popped a new piece of gum into her mouth. 

When they left the store they found the rain had started in earnest, falling in big fat drops that drummed loudly on the roof of the car. Fíli pulled them into the nearest motel he could find, and the two of them scurried inside with the plastic supermarket bags slung over both arms. The desk agent pulled a sleepy double-take when he finally looked up.

“Need a room, then?” 

Sigrid looked around the lobby, trying to look nonchalant while still avoiding the desk clerk’s eyes. Fíli nodded and slid a credit card over the counter.

“Two beds or one, Mister…” Sigrid’s heart stopped as he peered at the name on the card. “...Stronginthearm?”

“One, if you’ve got it.” Fíli’s voice was strange, gruff, and Sigrid found herself wondering exactly how many times he’d done this before.

The man behind the counter tapped through his ancient computer, punching in information and clicking around until the printer behind him spat out their receipt. He grabbed the paper and a set of keys off the rack behind him. “All right, you’re all set for room 107. Check out by 10.”

“Cheers,” muttered Sigrid as she grabbed the keys. They both hoisted the plastic bags higher on their arms and headed down the hall, but a call from the desk agent stopped them.

“Hey, did anyone ever tell you that you look like Prince Fíli?”

Sigrid stiffened but Fíli turned and grinned. “Sure,” he said, using an accent more at home in the Iron Mountains than west of Mirkwood. “Get that all the time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	12. Welcome to Bree

Sigrid awoke to a flash of lightning and, only a few moments later, a loud crack of thunder. Rain was still driving against the window panes, distorting the light from a street lamp out in the motel’s parking lot. She rolled over and looked at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 2:34 am. They’d only been in bed for a couple hours.

Fíli smacked his lips and opened his eyes slowly. “Whassmatter?”

“Just the thunder,” she answered, stretching her arms over her head. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Fíli’s gaze trailing along the patch of skin showing between her t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “Like what you see?”

“Mm, very much,” he said, trailing his fingers over her skin. He splayed his hand out over her belly, then let it slide down to cradle the curve of her hip. His thumb rubbed lazily over her hip bone as he nuzzled her neck. “You awake?”

Sigrid giggled. “Are you?”

Fíli hummed happily. “Awake enough,” he replied, pressing a wet kiss to her neck. “Could be more awake, if you wanted.”

She let her hands roam over him as he kissed her neck and collarbone, feeling scars and moles and hair under her fingertips. “Mm, that sounds like a great idea.” As she skimmed over his waist, she had to sigh. “You’re already naked?”

“I am,” he said, slipping his thumb under the elastic of her panties. “Wouldn’t you like to be?” 

“You’re taking all the fun out of this,” she muttered. Nevertheless Sigrid lifted her hips and pulled down her underwear, kicking it down somewhere towards the foot of the bed, then pulled the t-shirt over her head in one smooth movement. 

“Now isn’t that better?” Fíli asked, and captured one of her nipples between his lips.

“Wha– Hey!” Sigrid gasped and pushed him off of her reflexively. “That feels weird as hell, Fí, you gotta warm me up to that. Fuck’s sakes,” she grumbled, rubbing her breast more out of indignation than any actual injury. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Shall I start here instead?” He kissed her lips, slowly, deliberately, letting her draw herself nearer to him while he stoked the fire between them. 

Sigrid sighed against his lips, letting herself relax against him again. The drum of rain on the window was an intoxicating soundtrack, and every time the thunder rolled she found herself pressing harder against Fíli. He deepened the kiss, shifted slightly so she could slip her leg between his, and the press of his cock against her hip sent a different type of lightning running through her.

“I know,” Fíli said suddenly, propping himself up on one elbow. “Why don’t we play a game to help warm you up?” He pushed a strand of her hair away, then let his fingers trail down her cheek and neck, over her collarbone and around her shoulder.

“What kind of game?” Sigrid watched his hand slide down her side, skirting just over the curve of her breast. 

“I think you’ll like it,” he teased, nosing behind her ear. “You’re going to count down from one hundred. Not too slow, not too fast, just steady. And I’m going to do my best to… get you heated.” His fingers skipped across her hip bone and down to stroke the inside of her thigh. “The only catch is, you aren’t allowed to come until you get to zero.”

Sigrid’s mouth went dry, and she swallowed thickly before she could answer. “What about you?”

He kissed her shoulder, doodling tiny nothings into the soft skin of her leg until she shivered. “I’m quite happy to watch you come apart beneath me.” Fíli stilled his hand and looked her in the eyes. “So what do you say? Does that sound like fun?”

Speechless, all Sigrid could manage was to nod vigorously. She’d never tried anything like this before, and something told her it would be harder than it sounded. But the very idea of Fíli drawing out her pleasure like that, of controlling the progression of her desire so exactly, had her blood already rushing in her ears.

“Good,” Fíli murmured. “I know you can do it. You’re going to be so good for me.” He cupped her face in his hand and kissed her deeply, moving his tongue in sure strokes until she arched against him and moaned into his mouth. Immediately he pulled away, and the look in his eye was playful, possessive, self-assured. “Begin.”

“One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight…” 

Fíli began at her neck, right at the spot that he knew would get her squirming. Still she persisted, counting out in a steady rhythm as he moved down her chest. He pressed kisses to the roundness of her breasts, avoiding her nipples, skimming his lips down the underside and to her stomach. 

“Ninety-one, ninety. Eighty-nine…” The numbers came so easily at first, she vaguely wondered if she shouldn’t have tried it in Khûzdul or Sindarin. Surely that would be a more difficult game as she had only a rudimentary education in each. Even as he ghosted over her hips and past the thatch of hair between her legs, her breath hardly hitched. He ran his hands all the way down her legs, over the tops of her feet and right up the backs of her thighs, and it was only when he gently picked her legs up and parted them that her mantra finally stuttered. “Eighty-th– Eighty-three.”

“That’s it,” Fíli murmured, “keep going.” His breath was warm against her skin, and his lips made careful, deliberate progress back up to her breasts. As Sigrid rounded down into the seventies, Fíli climbed back over her and let his beard brush against her nipple.

“Seven– Seven– Seventy-one,” Sigrid gasped, closing her eyes tightly in concentration. She fell silent when he pulled her nipple into his mouth, relishing the sensation of him rolling it around between his teeth. 

Then he was gone. “Hey!” she protested as her eyes flew open.

Fíli looked up at her and clucked his tongue. “You need to keep going.” He shook his head ruefully. “What comes after seventy-one?”

“Seventy,” she groaned. Yet Fíli did not move. Only his breath on her skin teased her, so infuriating she could swear he was just blowing on her purposefully. She raised her head again and saw him waiting, poised just above her breast.

“Go on.”

“Sixty-nine, sixty-eight, sixty-seven,” she continued, with more than a hint of frustration. She could have sworn she could feel his smile against her chest, which only served to madden her further. From his position between her legs, his torso provided some small amount of delicious pressure, but it was never quite enough. She tried to focus on the numbers, but each time she thought she had reached some sort of meditative state, Fíli would nip at her just a little bit harder or pinch her just out of sync with the rhythm of her counting, and an overwhelming rush of pleasure would flood her senses.

Fíli’s ministrations only grew more intense as Sigrid’s numbers grew smaller. When she reached the forties, he shifted so he could send a hand down between her legs. He toyed with the short-cropped hair there, skimming one finger up and down her slit until finally he pushed between her outer lips. “Ohohohh,” he murmured. “I see we’re feeling quite warm now, aren’t we?”

But Sigrid had learned her lesson from before. The last thing she wanted was for him to withdraw. “Forty-two, forty-one…”

“So wet for me, and I’ve barely done a thing,” he chuckled.

Shame and desire swirled within her, flushing her cheeks and sending a new pulse of want deep in her belly. It was hardly fair to say he hadn’t done anything, but it was almost embarrassing how well the counting game was working. “Forty. Thirty-nine…”

Fíli slid his finger up and down, not entering her, just barely brushing over her wetness and past her clit, toying with her. She kept counting until, in the middle of thirty-six, he pushed two fingers inside her. She gasped and arched into him, only falling back down onto the bed when he had pulled out.

“Thirty-five,” she whimpered quietly, then fell silent as she watched him bring his hand to his mouth.

“I bet you taste so good,” he said, and licked his fingers clean. It was obscene, the way he never broke eye contact with her, how he swirled his tongue around and between them, the smack it made when he let his fingers free again. “Mm, I was right. Think I’ll have some more.” He shifted further down on the bed, then looked up at her expectantly.

“Thirty-four,” she begged, and he dipped his head between her legs. As his tongue moved in broad strokes over her slit, Sigrid’s counting slowed and stuttered. Her clit was pulsing, throbbing, and when Fíli finally pulled it between his lips, she had to stuff her fist in her mouth to stifle her scream.

“Oh, Fíli please, please,” she gasped, hips bucking wildly. “There, more, please!”

Yet instead of more, he softened his lips against her. When she whined, he shook his head, his beard brushing her sensitive flesh, and she shivered. He shushed her with a grin. “Remember the rules, pretty Sigrid.” Only when her breathing had slowed and her count resumed did he dip down to taste her again.

“Thirty-three, thirty-two…” Sigrid was so sensitive now that it didn’t take long for the pulsing press of desire to build again, tightening and twisting low in her belly. She threaded her fingers through Fíli’s hair, trying to urge him on, or to trigger some reaction in him that would make him lose control. Nothing worked. He kept each flick of his tongue steady, each press of his lips even, letting Sigrid rock herself against his mouth instead. She could get there, if she could just get a little bit more. More pressure, more teeth, more of _something_ inside her to fill her up. “Twenty-nine, twenty– um, twenty-seven.”

Fíli slowed again, winding down until he just pressed chaste kisses to her overheated skin. “You need to slow down,” he said with a smile. “We have far to go yet, and you just skipped a number.”

She felt empty, almost bereft. Every inch of her screamed for his touch, and it took every ounce of willpower not to send her own hand between her legs to relieve the ache. “Shit,” she gasped, chest heaving.

“Deep breaths, Sig.”

Even as he ran his palms over the swell of her thighs to soothe her, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. “This is torture,” she moaned.

“This is the game,” he replied.

Sigrid pulled in a shuddering breath and started over. “Twenty-nine, twenty- _eight,_ twenty-seven,” and slowly Fíli resumed his work. Another bolt of lightning flashed and the slow boom of thunder rumbled in her chest, echoing the waves of bliss that rolled through her, building up even faster after having been denied their crest. She couldn’t bear it if he stopped again. Each number came quicker than the one before, choked out between breaths or cried out loud in place of his name.

When she rounded down into the teens he shifted again, and she was so afraid that she’d made another mistake that her eyes flew open to watch him carefully. But she’d done well; he looked up at her with a dangerous lust in his eyes and brushed his fingertips over her opening. Sigrid kept counting, determined not to give him any reason to withhold her pleasure. At seventeen, he slipped one finger inside her. It was woefully inadequate, more of a tease than anything. At sixteen he added another. When she sputtered out “Fifteen” he added a third and started moving them in and out, pressing against her very core with characteristic precision. 

There was no way Sigrid was going to last. Fourteen and thirteen came out as sobs, and when Fíli finally returned his mouth to her clit she thrashed wildly, struggling against the swell of her orgasm. She _had_ to make it. “Ten, nine, eight–” He sucked her clit between his teeth, and though they raked over her flesh gently, she couldn’t help but pull at his hair as she stuttered, “S-s-seven.”

Every nerve was strung tight, straining toward her release. Sigrid squeezed at her breast eagerly, pinching and pulling until it was clear she couldn’t have stopped her orgasm if she tried. Maybe she could still make it. She could do it, she could get to zero if she were quick. “Six-five-fou– _Aah!_ ” Her count was cut off with a scream as her whole body arched off the bed, her orgasm hitting her more like a freight train than any kind of blessed release. 

She had never come like this before in her entire life. Her field of vision had gone white for far longer than a lightning flash, her very core racked with pulse after pulse of pleasure. Sigrid gasped and cried and sobbed as she rode it out. Her muscles burned with the effort of just reacting to the absolute bliss Fíli had bestowed on her. She vaguely registered Fíli’s pleased hum, his mouth still pressed to her sex while every muscle clenched down around his hand. 

After several long moments her body calmed and her breathing slowed, and Fíli removed himself from between her legs. A muted _thud thud_ sounded from the other side of the wall, and Sigrid found herself giggling again with pride and embarrassment: she’d kept the neighbors up. “Whoops.”

“You were so close,” he said as he settled in beside her. “I suppose you’ll have to try again.”

“Oh gods,” Sigrid moaned. “Not now.” They were the only words she could spit out. Her mouth was too dry and her head too fuzzy to produce anything more coherent.

“No, not now,” Fíli agreed.

Sigrid stretched her arms over her shoulders and wriggled her hips. Her clit still throbbed when she pressed her legs together, but now it was in a weaker, sated way. “Hmm, what about you?” 

“I’ll be fine,” he said simply. “You go back to sleep, ghivashel. It’s well after three in the morning now.”

She had to admit her eyelids were heavy. “If you say so,” she slurred, then rolled onto her side with a happy sigh. 

“I do,” he replied, kissed her forehead, and climbed out of bed.

“Your beard smells like sex,” she laughed, wrinkling her nose. “Where are you going?”

Fíli shook his head and chuckled. “I know it does. That’s why I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back, sweet one. Don’t worry.”

He flicked on the bathroom light and the fan whirred to life as well, and a second later the door clicked shut behind him. Sigrid closed her eyes again and pulled the sheets up to her chin. She’d have to deal with the fall-out of their little adventure sooner or later, sure. But for now, her love for him was a lullaby, and she drifted off to sleep with a smile on her face.

~*~

They woke up slowly. Shards of light snuck into their room around the edges of their curtains, moving with the turn of the earth until Sigrid and Fíli could ignore them no longer. Neither one of them could remember the last time they’d woken up with the sun rather than the screech of an alarm clock, and even after they were clearly both awake, neither one was in any hurry to leave their cocoon of blankets.

At least, not until Sigrid’s stomach growled loud enough for Fíli to hear.

“We really ought to find some lunch,” Fíli chuckled even as he pulled her closer to him.

“Breakfast,” she corrected.

“It’s well after eleven, that makes it lunch,” he said firmly. “Plus we still have about three hours’ drive before we get to Bree.”

“Fine,” Sigrid sighed, rolling away from him and out of bed. “You know what I want?” she asked as she dug around in their bags of new clothes. When she finally found a complete outfit, she answered her own question. “A big, greasy, fast-food burger.”

“Really?” 

She looked back at him, holding a pair of bright blue panties in her fist. The sunlight made Fíli’s tousled hair shine almost orange, and his eyes twinkled when he laughed at her. Honestly it was unfair how handsome he was first thing in the morning. “Yeah,” she replied, focusing a bit more than necessary on removing the tags from her clothes. She couldn’t believe how flustered he could still make her, even after almost five months of dating. “When I was growing up we hardly ever got to go out. And now I’m so busy, and have staff around to cook for me six days out of the week, I still never get to go.”

She shrugged into her jeans, fastened her bra, and slipped on a plain pink t-shirt. “And that’s great, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes you don’t want ethically-raised, grass-fed organic beef with antibiotic-free small-batch cheese. Sometimes you want a burger from a drive-thru window, wrapped in paper and oozing with grease and cheap mayo.”

“Well then. As you wish.” Fíli rolled out of bed and selected an outfit for himself from the collection of plastic bags at the foot of the bed. There was no reason to dawdle any longer, so together they collected their things, brushed their teeth, and dropped the keys at the front desk on their way.

They drove through the first fast food joint they saw. Sigrid’s burger was even better than she imagined. It was horrible, a limp slab of beef and a pathetic piece of lettuce between two squashed buns, but it satisfied her cravings all the same. The roads were long since clear of commuters and they whizzed through Carrock with no trouble at all. 

Eventually they ran out of radio stations they liked, and Sigrid turned her phone back on to play her own music. Fifteen missed calls and about forty text messages rang in, one after the other, from her father and her siblings, Legolas and Tauriel, Dagní and even Kíli. 

“Sorry,” she muttered as she tried to mute the flood of notifications. “Everyone’s trying to get ahold of us. I guess a picture of you punching that hobbit is going viral.”

Fíli winced. “Shouldn’t’ve done that.”

“He was being disgusting,” Sigrid reminded him. “Anyone else would have slugged him too.”

“Even so, I’m a _prince._ I’m supposed to be above that kind of reaction.” His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, making the pleather squeak. “It was unseemly.”

“I’m sure your uncle has already sent a little favor his way to make this whole thing die down quickly,” Sigrid tutted, scrolling through her music library until she found something she liked. A bouncy guitar riff started playing through the speakers. “The best thing we can do at this point is to lay low anyway. Probably.”

Fíli didn’t answer, but the furrow between his eyebrows deepened ever so slightly. Sigrid’s phone chimed again as her email inbox refreshed itself. Without even thinking about it she started scrolling through the subject lines. Several emails had come through over the past 24 hours requesting comment on what Sigrid now thought of as “The Incident.” There were a handful of meeting invitations for the healthcare committee to retool itself for implementation of the law they’d just helped come to pass. Several formal invitations awaited response for various arts and cultural events throughout Dale as well. 

“What?” Fíli asked, glancing over to her. “What is it?”

She sighed heavily. “Running west didn’t stop the work from piling up. I have like a hundred emails right now and they won’t stop flowing in. I really ought to deal with a few of these.” She selected a few invitations she knew she’d have to refuse and started drafting her regrets. “There’s about a million things to do as soon as I get home. I shouldn’t have left at all - we should go back.”

Fíli took his eyes off the road for a brief moment to look at her. “Do you really want me to turn around?”

“I…” She’d been so certain the night before that this last-minute road-trip was what she wanted. But now she was looking at everything she’d left behind and suddenly it wasn’t such a sure thing. “I have no idea how things are going at the palace right now. The cook’s off all week, Da’s supposed to be away for meetings in Mirkwood, so Tilly and Bain have to fend for themselves. Bain’s meds need refilling, and Tilly has a project for school, and I told Da that I would go to the anniversary party for the Natural History Museum tonight–”

“Sigrid,” Fíli interrupted gently. He placed a hand on her knee and rubbed his thumb over the ridges of the denim. “I think Dale can manage without you for a couple days. Bain and Tilda are capable of taking care of themselves. And think about it: if anyone really wanted to round us up and bring us home, they would have done ages ago. You think anything on this earth could have stopped Dagní from dragging our asses back to Dale if she wanted?” The corners of Fíli’s mouth quirked up and he nudged her with his elbow. “Huh?”

“Probably not,” Sigrid admitted begrudgingly. 

“Definitely not. Even princesses get to take vacations sometimes. You work harder than anyone I’ve ever met, Sigrid Bowman. Put your phone back down and let’s have a good time while we can.”

The road into Bree was pretty much a straight shot once they passed the Misty Mountains, only winding slightly through the foothills of the Weather Hills. They could see the faint grey shadows of the South Downs to their left, but the small city of Bree rose from the horizon in front of them, a perfect picture of modest progress. This place had a long way to go before they encountered any urban sprawl; the downtown area had no skyscraping business towers, only reasonably-sized five-story office buildings and the occasional chain hotel. Still, it was clear that Bree sat at an important juncture. There was a decently-sized airport, plenty of railway, and four main highways, two intersecting in the middle of the city and two winding around the outside of town for those just passing through. 

Fíli directed them to a neighborhood on the south side of the downtown area. “This is where we stayed when Uncle brought us to Erebor,” he explained. “It’s not fancy, but it is rather… _trendy,_ I guess you’d say. Lots of students and artists and the like, and it’s more casual and laid-back than the downtown area.”

“Sounds perfect,” Sigrid shrugged. She rolled her window down and let the breeze blow her hair every which way. It was unseasonably warm and it seemed everyone and their dog was outside to enjoy the weather. Bree was known as a city of men, but in truth its make-up was much more diverse due to its position between the Shire, the Misty Mountains and Rivendell. Boutique clothing shops boasted clothing fit for every size, cafes and food carts served cuisine from every culture, and children both hobbit and human kicked a ball around a park. 

Once Fíli had parked the car on a side-street, Sigrid dug out the wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses she’d bought the day before. Fíli tied his hair back at the nape of his neck and pulled a baseball cap down over the blond curls, which on top of his deep blue flannel, grey t-shirt, and relaxed jeans really did make him look like a completely different person. “Wow,” she breathed, shaking her head slowly. 

“What?” he asked somewhat defensively. He patted himself down and fidgeted with the fit of the cap. “I know it’s ridiculous but my braids are still in and I don’t want some passing dwarf to out us.”

Sigrid tipped the brim of the cap up and kissed him softly. “You don’t look ridiculous,” she tutted. “You look hot. Like, farmer’s market hot.”

“You just made that up.”

“I did not!” Sigrid pulled her hat down and took his hand, leading him back to the road they’d come down. “It’s a real thing. It’s like… Achievable-Hot. Sort of like Guy-Next-Door but a little more rugged.”

Fíli rolled his eyes but Sigrid ran her shoulder into him playfully. “Come on, it’s a compliment! I _drooled_ over people like that in uni.” 

“And were there a ton of those, then?” Fíli asked, but his tone was teasing. “Any guy in a flannel shirt could have been Dale’s next king, eh?”

Cars streamed by steadily as Sigrid fixed him with a stare. “One, that’s not how it works, he would become a prince and I know you know that. Two, not just guys.” He looked up at her and she winked. “I mean, have you _seen_ girls in flannels?”

“...Fair enough.” Fíli looked around for a bit at the surrounding bars and restaurants that dotted the main street through the neighborhood. “Are you hungry? We had breakfast late but now I don’t think I can wait until dinner.”

“Sure,” Sigrid replied. “I know it was a while since you came through here with your uncle, but do you remember any favorites?” 

He thought for a moment, then smiled widely as an idea occurred. “Yeah, it’s just down this way I believe. The Prancing Pony. Everyone was really nice and, as I recall, quite discreet about its patrons.” They crossed the road and went down a couple blocks until they came upon a brick building painted a bright lavender purple. “Here we are!”

“This… is it?” Sigrid looked up at the sign which did indeed read “The Prancing Pony” in bright pink. Fiberglass poster cases displayed announcements for upcoming shows featuring performers with names like Mother Hannah Humptannah, Charlamaine Monroe, and Eva Suede. Some of them just had close-ups of anonymous backs, rippling muscles leading down to jean-clad buttocks. It was very nearly the gayest thing Sigrid had ever seen.

“Yeah!” Fíli grinned. “They make great bar food. Gandalf had us meet him here and he gave us a weird history lesson over fish and chips.” He opened the door but Sigrid called out before he could step inside. 

“Fí, wait!” She paused, then began again carefully. “Are you, um. Are you aware that this is a gay bar?”

“A what?”

“A gay bar. Fíli. Look at these posters, they’re for drag shows!”

“Ah.”

Sigrid put a hand to her temple. “Regular bars don’t have pictures of random dudes’ abs on the walls, Fí.”

“In my defense, those were not there eighteen years ago.”

“For fuck’s sakes,” Sigrid sighed and pushed in past him to take a seat at the bar. It wasn’t that Sigrid had anything against gay bars, of course. She just couldn’t believe that Fíli hadn’t noticed! The inside was just as garishly decorated as the outside. Mirror balls hung from the ceiling, TVs in the corners played silent music videos of pop icons from thirty years ago, and pride flags adorned the railings around the upper level. 

“You know, now that I take another look it does seem quite obvious,” Fíli mused. “Though again, in my defense, plenty has changed since then.”

The bartender slid a couple of menus in front of them along with two glasses of water, and Sigrid sipped absently as she looked for what she wanted to eat.

“It explains why the servers kept trying to convince Ki and me to come back that weekend so they could, and I quote, ‘meet their otter quota.’ Too bad Thorin was rushing us to Erebor, it could have been fun.”

“Well there’s a show tonight,” Sigrid said, picking up one of the table-tents advertising the event. _“Her Highness Miss Jolly Whiskeydick presents Queens for Queens, A Night of Royalty.”_

“We just can’t get away from it can we?” 

“Could be fun though,” Sigrid mused. “Come on, don’t you want to see Drag King Thranduil sing _I’m Comin’ Out?”_

“I–” He hid his snort of a laugh behind the menu. “I understand on an intellectual level that parody and criticism of government is a fundamental component of the right to free speech, sure. But it’s not always a great time watching impressions when you know the subjects personally.”

“Oh loosen up! If I have to learn how to take a vacation, you gotta learn to laugh at yourself, Fíli.” Sigrid took a sip of her water and put the glass back down on the bar decisively. “Besides. Did you have any _other_ plans tonight?”

“Well, no,” he hedged.

“Then it’s settled,” Sigrid said firmly. “We’re coming back later and you’re gonna like it.”

Fíli rolled his eyes, then called the bartender over with a wave of his hand. “All right then. It’s a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading! Let me know via kudos or comments, or come find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). Thanks so much!


	13. Closing Time

Fíli and Sigrid filled the rest of their afternoon with thrift-store shopping and ice cream and a particularly frustrating round of mini-golf at the art museum. They found a hotel that was only a few blocks from The Prancing Pony, so they booked a room with a pleasant desk agent who did a double-take but said nothing about who she thought they might be. Sigrid was glad the encounter was over quickly, as all the plastic shopping bags hanging off her arms were cutting off circulation and she really didn’t want to answer questions about why two heirs to two thrones couldn’t find one piece of luggage between them. It was worth hauling everything in from the car, though, as she was able to put together an outfit for the drag show and re-pack everything well enough to eliminate at least a couple of the bags that were more worse-for-wear.

Fíli ran out to get food from a hobbit cart stationed in the hotel’s parking lot and they ate hand-pies sitting cross-legged on the bed, flicking through Bree TV and never settling on anything, just marveling on how different the programming could be in another part of the world. They finished the end of a sitcom and moved into the shower together, dripping clothing along the short path from the bed to the bathroom. Time was slower here, somehow, or perhaps they just let it pass them by differently as they washed and kissed and touched each other in the hot spray. 

The large mirror was completely clouded with steam when they finally emerged, pink-skinned and plush-lipped. Sigrid combed her hair out and let it fall down her back in dark golden waves, but Fíli picked at his absently. He wiped a corner of the mirror clear, but then just stood there still for a moment.

“Will you put your braids back in?” Sigrid asked as she wrapped her arms around him from behind. She rested her head on his shoulder and added, “I think they’re quite fetching.”

“Well that’s nice,” Fíli chuckled, “because they aren’t really optional for public appearances. Dwarves would be scandalized if someone, let alone the crown prince, were to be seen without them. Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t even be letting _you_ see me right now. But yes, I’m trying to decide if I ought to put them back or put in decoys, or just wear a hat. You know, since we’re trying to lay low.”

“I don’t think it’s much of a gamble,” Sigrid said. “There might be people who come to the event _as you_ , and they’ll be replicating your braids. I doubt you’ll stand out.”

“It is easier to work them when my hair is wet,” he admitted.

Sigrid kissed his cheek and released him. “Just do it. You can put your hat on if you want afterwards, but it’s probably better than getting caught without. One scandal per week is my limit, thanks very much.”

She left him in the bathroom and got ready on the bed with the small amount of makeup she’d had in her purse when she fled the restaurant. It seemed like months ago, and yet they had only been gone for little more than 24 hours. Perhaps that was cliche but it was true; the time spent in the car had flown by, yet their leisurely afternoon had stretched out to fill the day with a relaxed sort of fun that Sigrid hadn’t really experienced since she’d started working. When she looked down to find her tube of mascara, her phone caught her eye instead. 

Speaking of work... The blank screen stared at her accusingly, daring her to revisit her email, to check in on her sister, to–

“Sigrid,” Fíli warned. 

She swept the phone into her purse and grabbed the mascara instead. “Wha’?” she asked, mouth gaping open as she swept the brush over her lashes. 

“I saw that,” he sighed, and she could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Ready to go?” 

They walked down the few short blocks to The Prancing Pony, where a short line at the door was already starting to build. As they walked past the bouncer to join the queue, he stopped them with a gentle arm. “Performers can go on in. Sign in with Jolly at the far end of the bar.”

Fíli blanched. “Oh, we’re not–”

“Thank you!” Sigrid interrupted. “Much appreciated!” And before Fíli could protest, she took him by the elbow and pulled him inside. The bassline of the house music thumped in their chests, and lights of all colors swirled around in automated patterns. A DJ had set up in the front corner of the stage and bounced along to the beat, his giant (and Sigrid would bet genuine) afro covered in glitter. The dance floor was full of people of all shapes and sizes. Only a handful that Sigrid could see were obviously dressed as royalty, and the rest were just dressed to the nines.

Sigrid wound her way through the crowd until she reached the bar. It took some time to get an elbow in, and even longer before she could get the bartender’s attention. There were three working, and the one that finally noticed her was a woman with a shaved head and a bright red flannel tied around her waist. Her grey tank top served to display a pair of well-toned arms and Sigrid’s cheeks warmed. Yeah, she had a type.

“What’re you having?”

“Can I get–”

But the woman shook her head and gestured for Sigrid to come closer. She leaned her whole chest over the bar and the bartender put her ear right next to Sigrid’s lips. “Can I get two whiskey-sodas please?” she asked, hoping her blush hadn’t been noticed. When the bartender got to work, Sigrid glanced back to Fíli, who was giving her a knowing look.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Fíli stepped into her space so he could be heard. “Have you _seen_ girls in flannel?” he teased.

“Shut up,” she said, laying a tenner on the bar to cover their surprisingly inexpensive drinks. 

They found a spot against the wall and watched the people around them, every so often pointing out someone they “recognized.” It seemed Bree’s non-elven queens were very fond of Galadriel and Arwen, and the handful of elves had taken to making fabulous versions of Arda’s most crotchety kings: Denethor and Dain were among their favorites. A couple of hobbits conferred over by the registration table, and Sigrid had half a mind to push Fíli over to them and make him sign himself up.

When she looked over at him to evaluate her chances, however, another short blonde in braids walked past to her right. “Holy shit,” she said, tugging on his sleeve. He took a step closer to her and she tried to yell loudly enough to be heard, but not so loud as the other person noticed. “Someone _did_ come as you! I hope they perform!”

“Oh no,” he groaned. Fíli’s hand tightened around the flimsy plastic cup and he looked around somewhat frantically, trying to find the impostor.

“Calm down,” Sigrid tutted. “Come on and dance with me, handsome.” She sidled up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I can take your mind off your worries.”

Fíli let himself be pulled in towards the middle of the dance floor, his grumpy facade fading fast as Sigrid pushed her hips against his and grinned. Before long she’d gotten him to release his death-grip on his cup and slowly but surely his hips started to sway as well. The press of bodies around them was intoxicating rather than intimidating, and Sigrid felt all her worries about work and family and kingdom melt away. Fíli pulled her closer and let his forehead rest on her shoulder. Her shirt fell open and he periodically pressed kisses to her clavicle and neck, sending tempting bolts of desire blasting through her.

This was the freest Sigrid had ever felt in her life, freer still than the moment she’d decided to let Fíli drive them away from Dale. The music filled her ears, Fíli’s arms surrounded her, and even though she was only one drink in, the whiskey warmed her from the inside out. Vaguely, the thought crossed her mind that this was the kind of thing she should have been doing in college. Yet she couldn’t even mourn the time gone by, she was just so content to be where she was, with this one special person who understood her despite everything.

The song ended and one of the hobbits Sigrid had seen at the registration trotted up to the stage. His face was slender with a pointed nose and a barely-cleft chin, and his hair was blonde and curly. His face was covered in the dramatic makeup of a drag queen though he wore a hideously vintage tuxedo. “Hello, Prancing Pony!” he shouted, and the crowd cheered. “How are we feeling tonight, my queens and queers? Ready to see a show?”

Everyone cheered even louder then, even Fíli, and Sigrid took the break in the music to head over and order another drink. As she waited her turn, the person on stage continued talking. “My name is Jolly Whiskeydick and I will be your MC for this evening.” He waited for the polite applause and slightly less polite whistles, then raised the microphone to his lips again. “We have quite a night planned out for you, so let’s not dally. I want to start the night off with a bang, so put your hands together and give a warm Bree welcome to His Royal Fineness, the Queen of Mirkwood!”

Jolly stepped aside and a human dressed in flowing, floor-length silver robes stepped forward. Their crown was a beautiful, if more rustic replica of the autumn-themed crown of twigs and red leaves the real King Thranduil wore, and a sleek blonde wig flowed under it all the way down to the performer’s hips. They stood with their back to the audience, hand on hip, and when the first few disco chords rang out, Sigrid put a hand over her mouth. 

“Oh my gods,” she whispered to no one in particular. _“Yes!”_ Her second round of drinks showed up and she paid for them on autopilot as the performer turned and began to lipsync.

_“I’m comin’ out!”_

“Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?” Fíli asked when Sigrid handed him his drink. 

“In all fairness,” Sigrid answered, “I have thought for a while that King Thranduil was a bit sweet on my Da.”

About three-quarters of the way through the song, the performer untied their belt and threw open the robe to reveal they wore platform heels, fishnet tights, a bright green pair of underwear and a matching corset. The crowd erupted in hollars and wolf-whistles, and Sigrid whooped along with the rest of them. 

“I daresay you could do worse for a step-parent,” Fíli teased. 

Sigrid crowed with laughter. “Tilda would love a second dad if it meant she could learn to do makeup like that.”

The routine ended with a flourish and Jolly Whiskeydick returned to announce the next performers. First there was a hobbit-Eowyn, then a dwarven-Legolas, and a human-Galadriel so tall and fabulous that she almost looked like the real thing. By the time Jolly announced an intermission, Sigrid was nearly hoarse from cheering so loud. The DJ started playing his own music again and Fíli took his turn to fetch the drinks.

Left alone, Sigrid scanned the crowd and noticed one or two people looking at her. Her heart-rate spiked. Had she been recognized? But then one lady gave her a smile and a nod of the head, and she flushed with the realization that they had been looking at her because they thought she was cute. She looked away immediately, trying not to encourage anyone, though without a drink in hand it was impossible to hide her smile completely. She glanced back to find that the woman she’d locked eyes with had started to move toward her, though all the people in her way made it slow going. Sigrid turned around again and nearly knocked the drinks out of Fíli’s hands. 

He jumped back as they sloshed dangerously, but before he could protest Sigrid snuck in between his arms and kissed him. Fíli made a small noise of surprise, arms akimbo, and when Sigrid broke away he blinked twice before he spoke. “Um. Hello.”

Sigrid winced. “I’m sorry, I thought there was someone coming over to chat me up and I panicked.”

“Well have another drink and I daresay you’ll not care anymore,” he teased. “They’re pouring them stiffer as the night goes on, bless them.”

She took a sip and blanched at the burn of the alcohol. No, she wouldn’t be caring about much else at all by the time she reached the bottom of her glass. Jolly returned to the stage and his partner wheeled out a small spotlight behind him. 

“Well, well, well,” he said, looking quite satisfied with himself. “Are you all boozed up yet?” He smiled at the audience’s response and continued. “Before we bring out the second half of the show, I thought we’d have a little fun with those of you in the audience who got into the spirit of the evening. So my darling Penelope DuJour will be helping us shine a light on you sweeties!”

The other queen in full fuschia drag regalia pointed the spotlight at the ceiling and turned it on, then swung it around to single out various audience members. First he landed on someone in a leather jerkin and green cape. “Look,” Jolly said, “there’s the favorite son of Gondor!”

“Wow,” Fíli murmured, “he does look like Boromir!”

“I mean, if he were on some kind of olden-time adventure, maybe.”

“Oh, is that the king of Dale I see?” Jolly asked, and Penelope moved the light to the opposite corner from where Sigrid stood. She raised herself up on her tip-toes, bracing herself on Fíli’s shoulder, and laughed out loud to see someone had drawn deep lines on their face around their mouth and eyes as well as the thin mustache her da had taken to wearing lately. She had pulled the top half of her shoulder-length hair back just as Bard did, and wore the kind of smart, simple suit he favored. She looked around nervously, then put her hand to her chest and mouthed “Me?” but dissolved into giggles soon after and the room cheered.

“By the Valar, Da would die if he saw this,” Sigrid laughed.

Fíli shook his head and took another sip of his drink. “Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“And look!” Jolly exclaimed. “Seems his daughter’s in the mood for a night out as well. Hallo there, Sigrid!”

In an instant, light blinded her. _Fuck._ How did they find her? But when she put on her Standard Royal Appearances smile, the audience laughed and clapped, and she realized they hadn’t found her. They had found _“her.”_

“Now there’s some dedication to the role, guys and gals and nonbinary pals. Look who her date is!” The spotlight swung and Jolly practically dissolved with glee as he announced, “The Heir to Erebor, folks!” Fíli blanched but Jolly kept talking. “I don’t know how many of you are up on the Hot Goss’ these days but these two have been seen out together more and more lately…” He let the words dangle there, salacious, and waggled his makeup-enhanced eyebrows conspiratorially. After a beat he asked, “So did you two really come together? Or is this just glorious serendipity?”

Sigrid looked to Fíli, but he was frozen. If she didn’t do something right away he might panic and tip their hand. So she tossed her head back and drained her drink, threw the plastic cup behind her in a cartoonish display, and took Fíli’s face between her hands to kiss him deeply. 

The crowd went wild. Shouts of “Yeah girl!” and “Get some!” rang out, people clapped both her and Fíli on the back, and even the DJ started playing the first few lines of a sultry funk song. After a moment Fíli realized what she was doing and joined in the exaggerated performance, mussing up her hair, letting his hands roam all over her body, and finally ending up swinging her around into a low dip. When his lips finally broke apart from hers she huffed a laugh. “Took you long enough,” she muttered.

“Oh my,” Jolly said, patting a neon-pink handkerchief to his cheeks and forehead. “Oh dear. You two need to get a room! Or at least sell tickets!” The crowd laughed, Penelope moved the spotlight away from them, and Jolly went on to announce the next performer. 

Fíli helped Sigrid back to her feet, and she was pleasantly surprised to see that he was grinning. “All right,” he whispered in her ear. “You win. That was pretty fun.” 

“I’m glad,” Sigrid replied. “I told you it wouldn’t be too bad.”

“–quite a show just now, but believe me when I say this honey gives him a run for his money!” Jolly was saying, gesturing towards the off-stage area. “So put your hands together for Fíli the Fabulous!”

Fíli’s smile fell just a bit as he watched a small human drag king walk into place on the stage. Their hair was woven into braids similar to Fíli’s royal designs, and they wore a thick fur coat and about a hundred weapons strapped to their arms and legs and back. Penelope rushed to set up a target on one side of the stage, and Sigrid’s brow furrowed. “What the hell are they doing?” 

He laughed weakly and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s, ah… Before your time.” Fíli leaned in towards Sigrid and continued, “When Thorin brought Kíli and me to the Lonely Mountain, someone gifted us these horrible giant fur coats to wear through the mountains. _Nainlikhi_ did a spread on the _Dwarf Princes’ Unexpected Journey_ and a companion segment on their television show as well.” 

A high-tempo, thrashing metal song started playing, which Sigrid recognized as a popular band from the Iron Hills who only sang in Khûzdul though no human fan she’d ever met seemed to mind. Fíli rolled his eyes and said, “Mahal only knows why Uncle allowed them to come– distract from the gossip of his childlessness by showing us all together as a happy family, perhaps?– but they took a lot of footage of our training in the Ered Luin armory before we left. I imagine this person is going to–”

An ax thudded into the target and both Jolly and Penelope _Ooh_ ed and _Aah_ ed into the microphone. 

“–recreate that footage.” 

“Who throws axes anymore?” Sigrid gaped. “Don’t you have guns in Ered Luin?”

Fíli folded his arms over his chest and stuck out his jaw. “It’s a cultural weapon!”

The performer on stage seductively walked his fingers down to his ankles to retrieve a pair of throwing knives from his boots. He tossed them up into the air, lazily juggling them for a moment before he whipped around and sent them flying at the target as well. Each time a blade found its home the crowd erupted in cheers and laughter, hoots and hollars. “They’re quite good,” Sigrid said.

“For show,” Fíli hedged. “I’d like to see them hit an orc riding a warg at thirty miles an hour but even so, yes. Their form is good,” he admitted. 

The two of them watched for another minute or so and Sigrid tugged playfully at one of Fíli’s curls. “So uh, can you still throw an axe like that?”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Better.”

She skimmed her fingers over his shoulders, thrilling in the feeling of the strong muscle even under his shirt. “Hm. I bet.”

He put his mouth to her ear and murmured, “You about ready to go?” 

Sigrid nodded and he took her hand and wove their way back out to the door. The air outside was cool, raising Sigrid’s skin into gooseflesh. She rubbed her arms briskly and pressed her body up against Fíli’s even as they walked back to their hotel. 

“You okay, ghivashel?” He hugged her close, giving a little hop-skip so they walked in step with each other.

“I’m just chilly,” she answered. A yawn surprised her and she added, “And tired. Ready to go home.”

 _“Home_ home or hotel home?” Fíli asked.

It took her a while to answer. “Home home. We’ve done about all there is to do in Bree, honestly. And it was really fun! I forgot about everything for a whole, like, two days, which is pretty much a record for me. And you hardly flinched when that drag king went up and reminded you of your 90s-era fashion, which I’m quite proud of by the way.” She sighed. “But I am ready to head back. We can take our time, of course, take the long way home. But yeah. I miss my da, and Bain and Tilly. And my own bed.”

Fíli chuckled. “Mm, those hotel pillows are pretty awful. We’ll get going after breakfast, okay?”

“Okay.”

They finished their walk to the hotel in silence, wordlessly rode the elevator, and entered their room with just the beep of the card key. Sigrid went straight for the bathroom to brush her teeth while Fíli undressed to his boxers and fastidiously put his clothes away in the small dresser. They switched places, but Sigrid just kicked her clothes into a pile in the corner and returned to the bathroom to wash her face. 

As she scrubbed the white cloth over her eyes, a wave of melancholy washed over her. She was ready to be home with her family, sure, but was she ready for the rest of the consequences? With her makeup removed, she wrapped her arms around Fíli’s waist while he bent to spit out his toothpaste. When he righted himself, she asked, “What happens after?”

“Hm?” He grabbed a towel to pat his beard dry, and looked into her reflection’s eyes. 

“I mean, I guess we’re going to go back to work, living our lives, but everyone knows now. About us.”

“Mm.”

“We don’t have to pretend anymore, we can just date like normal people. You know?” 

“We aren’t normal people,” Fíli reminded her gently. He turned in her arms and kissed her. “We’ll never be.”

“I guess I was having too much fun pretending, huh.” She slumped and let him go, retreating to flop onto the bed like a petulant teenager. What did he want, then? Was he going to dump her now that they had to get back to Real Life again?

“Sigri– Sigrid, wait.” Fíli followed and lay down next to her. She hid her face in the pillows but he just sighed and stroked her arm. “I don’t mean we go back to the way it was. I don’t want to pretend you’re just an acquaintance either, sneak around the way we did. I meant what I said in that disgusting alley. I love you, and I’m not giving you up. But ghivashel.” He kissed the space just above her elbow. “I also have to be realistic about what this means.”

“What _does_ this mean, then?” 

Fíli hesitated. “I don’t know.” 

She laughed, a bitter sound bubbling up from her core. “Oh, okay, good. That makes two of us then.”

“We’ll figure it out though. I promise.” He stroked her hair and looked at her until she finally relented. “Hey. There’s no rush, is there? We’ve got time.”

“Yeah,” Sigrid nodded. “We’ve got time.”

~*~

The next day they got out of bed in no particular rush, picking up their things one by one before signing out of their hotel room. The desk agent who had checked them in the day before had recognized them after all and was working the daytime shift again. Since they were leaving anyway they agreed to take a selfie with her, which Fíli put on his own profile without even thinking about consulting his “people” first. Sigrid turned her phone back on to give it a Like, and found Tilly had already beaten her to the punch.

They took the long way home, around the north side of Mirkwood and through the Grey Mountains, and down the west side of Erebor. They stopped at every roadside attraction, taking pictures at scenic turn-offs and over-paying for trinkets in gas station gift shops. Small-town museums ate up an hour or two of their time here and there, and they got out of the car once to hike around down by the bank of a river and skip rocks. It took them two full days to get home.

Fíli took Sigrid to Dale, winding through the back way into the palace grounds and parking the car in what had become his usual spot. They climbed out of the car, joints creaking, and loaded up their arms with the plastic bags full of Sigrid’s vacation finds. When they finally looked up, Dagní was there waiting for them at the bottom of the steps into the house.

“Come along, you two,” she said solemnly. Only because she’d been working with her for five years did Sigrid know that Dagní wasn’t mad at them, just cautious. “His Majesty King Thorin is here with your father in the drawing room.”

“Wonderful,” Fíli bit out, his grip on Sigrid’s hand tightening as they put the bags back down and followed her head of security down the hall.

Both Bard and Thorin rose to their feet as Fíli and Sigrid approached. “Sigrid,” Bard said quietly, and she was sure he hadn’t had as many white hairs when she’d left. He opened his arms and she hugged him tightly. 

“I’m sorry, Da,” she whispered. 

“I know.” They broke apart and she turned to see Fíli standing stiffly before his uncle, hands clasped behind his back. 

“Fíli.”

“Uncle.”

“You know I expect better of you,” Thorin said, his face absolutely stone-like.

“I know–”

“It’s my fault,” Sigrid exclaimed, stepping in front of Fíli. “It was my idea, all of it.”

Fíli took her arm and pulled her back. “Sigrid, you don’t ha–”

“Stop.” Thorin cut them both off with a shake of his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“We know you are both responsible for what you did,” Bard added. “You have a bit of clean-up to do, and a fair bit of apologizing.” When they started their apologies he lifted his hands to quiet them. “Not to us, to your security staff, and your siblings, and the organizers of the events you both blew off to go have your fun. You were incredibly irresponsible.”

Sigrid’s chin dropped to her chest and she felt a familiar prickle behind her eyes. “Da, I’m sorry. We’ll never do it again.”

“No, you won’t,” Thorin agreed, and Sigrid’s head snapped back up to look at him. What did he mean? She looked to Fíli, whose worried expression gave her no comfort. Did Thorin mean to forbid them to see one another? Was it over for them after all?

“King Thorin, I–”

“Calm yourself, child,” he interrupted dismissively. “You’re punishing yourself far more harshly than anything I’d have thought up for you.” Thorin stepped towards Fíli and lowered his voice to speak to him in Khûzdul. Sigrid had no idea what he was saying, but Fíli’s ears turned bright red and a muscle in his jaw twitched. He said a few words, but Thorin cut him off with a rapid series of harsh syllables. 

Sigrid felt unbelievably awkward and tried not to appear as if she were listening in. No matter that she didn’t understand the language, she still felt like a child again, watching her friend get disciplined for misbehaving.

Almost as if he read her mind, Bard took her by the elbow and murmured, “Back at the RC you couldn’t stand the guy. I have to admit I’m somewhat amused that eight-or-so months later you run away with him.”

“Da,” Sigrid whined, but Bard just laughed.

“I know how these things go. Your ma didn’t care for me much either when we first met. Of course, we didn’t cause any international incidents, but–”

_“Da!”_

“Oh hush,” he chuckled. “I’m not mad. And Thorin isn’t really, either.” They both looked back at the two dwarves, Sigrid more warily than Bard. The tone had shifted again to something softer; Fíli nodded and Thorin smiled, clapping his hand warmly to Fíli’s cheek. After a moment Fíli smiled too, and he and Thorin turned back to face them.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Bard,” Thorin said, “But now I am taking Fíli back to the Mountain.” Fíli looked at his feet in an obvious display of embarrassment and Sigrid studiously avoided meeting anyone’s gaze. “I’m sure we will see each other again soon. Come, Fíli.”

But Fíli hesitated. “Could I have a moment with Sigrid please? I’ll be along shortly.”

“I’ll show you out, King Thorin,” Bard said, and the two of them headed out of the drawing room and towards the front door.

Sigrid watched them go, heart pounding as if she’d barely escaped certain death. She put a hand to her forehead and found it came away sweaty. “Oh Valar,” she breathed. “That was not fun.”

“No,” Fíli agreed, “it wasn’t.” He wrapped her in his arms and buried his face in her shoulder. They stood there silently for a moment, and a familiar worry crept back into Sigrid’s mind. The idea of it had never really gone away, only lurked in the background of her thoughts the whole way home and now with nothing else to distract her, and Fíli’s departure so imminent, she had to give it voice. 

“Will I see you again?” she whispered.

“What?” Fíli raised his head and took her face in his hands. “Sigrid, of course you will.”

She felt the threat of tears approach and sniffed them back. “I just– I don’t want this to be the way we end things.” 

“Ghivashel, we talked about this back in Bree. No one’s ending anything.” His thumb rubbed over the swell of her cheekbone tenderly. “I love you, I’m not ending anything.”

He’d said those three words to her before, in the car when they’d first decided to run to Bree, and later in the hotel when she’d been so afraid of losing him. Sigrid realized that she’d never said them back, but surely he knew. Surely he understood, by the way she trusted him, relied upon him. Surely he saw how terrified she was to lose him and he knew what that meant. She searched his eyes, took in his soft smile, felt his hands cradling her face so carefully, and she felt a yearning, deep in her bones, to make sure of it.

“You know I love you too, don’t you?” 

“I do,” he replied simply, and pressed a chaste kiss to her worried mouth.

She clung to him then, capturing his lips again in a desperate display. A fat tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and then another, rolling down over her cheek and getting trapped between them. Fíli pulled back and wiped the wetness away with a soothing noise. “Hush, amrâlimê. Don’t you fret. I’ll be back to see you soon.”

“I know.” Sigrid took a deep breath, letting the tension flow out of her. It wasn’t over. He loved her, and they were going to figure it out together. 

After another long moment had passed, she took his hand to lead him out front to where Thorin’s car waited. As they walked, she stole a look at him and said, “So, uh… Once we get the whole of eastern Arda off our backs, do you wanna get dinner sometime?”

Fíli grinned. “Fish’n chips?”

“Sure, fish and chips. Whatever you want.” They reached the front door and, finding neither her father nor any staff in the foyer waiting for them, Sigrid paused to give Fíli one last kiss, pouring into it all her love and fear and relief. He took it all from her willingly, resting his hands on her waist as his lips moved in sync with hers. When they finally parted, he gave her sides a tickling pinch that took her by surprise. She barked out a laugh and batted his hands away. “Hey, stop it!”

“I’m supposed to be the serious one in this relationship,” he reminded her with twinkling eyes. “Now take care of yourself, Pretty Sigrid. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later.”

Fíli climbed into the back seat of the car, bravely hiding his grimace from everyone but Sigrid; the chauffeur closed the door behind him with a click. Sigrid waved even as the car pulled away from the house, and kept waving until it disappeared from view. Then she went back inside, headed down the hall and went straight for her bedroom without stopping. Tilly and Bain and even Dagní could wait to hear about and chide her for her recent adventures; right now she needed a hot shower and her own warm bed. 

The past few months had been so full of stress, and while her impromptu vacation had helped to relax her, the looming shadow of the mountain of responsibilities had never quite vanished. There were apologies to write, statements to draft, emails to read. There were stories to tell and tchotchkes to put away. She hadn't spoken to Legolas in weeks, and the last text she sent to Tauriel merely said "Thanks!!" She _especially_ owed them an apology. Yet even with her first vacation under her belt, Sigrid couldn’t change her nature _too_ much: her to-do list excited her, there were no two ways about it. Sure, tonight Sigrid would bathe and rest and recharge her batteries.

Tomorrow, she had work to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Once more, I wish to express my many thanks to [inheritanceofgeek](http://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek) also known on tumblr as [mrsmarymorstan](http://mrsmarymorstan.tumblr.com/), who beta-read this whole thing for me and even let me use her OC.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed reading this story! Let me know via kudos or comments, or you can find me [here on tumblr](http://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/post/162757610344/you-keep-coming-up-a-figrid-modern-royalty-au-by). It would mean a lot to me if you could reblog the post and spread the word. Thanks again for reading, and for all your lovely comments! xoxoxo


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